


Lady In Red

by lizwontcry



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, modern day AU, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-13 22:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19260301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwontcry/pseuds/lizwontcry
Summary: "You've had plenty of time, just like I have. You're exactly like me and don't try to say you're not. When it comes down to it, you want to be alone. All you want is peace and quiet, and if that's not possible, you want to do what we're doing now--be on the hunt. Solve a mystery, find the pieces of the puzzle, kill your enemies, watch as they die. You don't want a two-story house in the suburbs with a golden retriever and four kids and a husband who does everything you say. That's why you denied that blacksmith kid who wanted to settle down with you. And that's why you're here with me now."Sandor and Arya team up after a long time apart to find Cersei Lannister and kill her once and for all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this sort of came from nowhere but it's been ruining my life for two weeks, so here we go. Kudos and feedback are always welcomed and appreciated! This is my weird little AU baby, so please tell me if you love it or hate it. I'll be posting a chapter or two every day, there's seven or eight chapters total. Thank you for reading!

**_OCTOBER 7TH, 2009 - THE PRESIDENT HAS BEEN ASSASSINATED._ **

**_President Edward Stark was murdered today while at a rally in upstate New York. A horde of masked men overpowered President Stark's security team and several of them stabbed him from behind. First Lady Catelyn Stark and son Robb Stark were also stabbed and did not survive the attack. The president's other children--Sansa, Jon, Rick, and Brandon were taken away by Secret Service agents and were not harmed. Arya Stark has not been seen since the masked men escaped after the fatal stabbings. The White House has no comment as of this report. We will have more news as it develops on this tragic day for our country._ **

**2019**

The rain is relentless. There's no sign of it stopping, and the thunder roars throughout the sky as bolts of lightning flash light up the atmosphere, threatening to set fire to everything it touches. But she still runs. She runs through the park, in the street, on the sidewalk, stepping in puddles, ignoring or not even noticing anything other than what's straight in front of her. This is what she needs to keep moving, to not remember, to only see the future instead of being bound by the past.

Arya Stark runs until she gets back to her condo, a small one-bedroom she bought a few years ago because it was plain, boring, and didn't attract attention. She seldom sees her neighbors, which suits her just fine. It's a long way from the White House, thank the Gods. 

After changing out of her wet clothes and into sweats and a tank top, Arya finds her phone charging in the kitchen and sees she has a few missed calls. Before checking her voicemails and texts, she chugs a bottle of water and eats half a banana. 

The first text is from Sansa - _Come to dinner 2nite, we r discussing strategy, need u there_. Arya sighs. This running for senator thing is getting kind of old, but she's been helping Sansa campaign from the start and there's no point in stopping now. It's another step in the whole "getting her life back on track" thing she's been trying to do for the past few years. Arya texts back, "OK," and hopes that's a sufficient enough answer.

The next text is from Gendry. Of course. _Would love to see you soon. Please come to Philly next weekend? I haven't seen you in so long..._ Arya will answer that one later. Maybe.

She has a missed call from a number she doesn't recognize, along with a voicemail. She hates voicemails because they always seem to bring bad news, but she listens to it anyway.

"Arya, it's Rose. I know, I know, you don't want to hear from me, but it's important. An assignment has come up, one that we need you to take. This is it, this is the one we've talked about from the beginning. Please call me back. It's urgent."

Arya's heart sinks. She knows exactly what Rose is talking about, and it's not good. It's not good for so many reasons, the least of which is how badly she wants to take the assignment. But she's trying so hard to move on from the past; she wants to be that person who comes back to her condo to binge watch Netflix, campaign for her ambitious sister, fall in love with the boy she had a crush on as a girl. She wants so much to be that person, so why is it so hard, and why is Rose calling her about this, especially now? There has to be other people who can take the job.

She ponders this as she drives over to Sansa's mega mansion in the hills of the Austin suburbs. Arya thinks Sansa's house is ridiculous and over-indulgent, but she supposes that's what happens when a Stark marries a Lannister. 

Arya rings the doorbell and smiles as Sansa’s four year old twins, Eddie and Kate, open the door and rush out to hug their aunt Arya. While Arya doesn’t have any urge to have her own children, she loves her niece and nephew. They’re good kids. Sansa’s husky Lady also greets her with a lot of tail wagging and a huge kiss. Arya wanted to adopt Lady’s sister as a puppy, but she was always too busy for a dog. 

“Did you bring us anything?!” Eddie asks. This is his usual greeting, which Arya respects and appreciates.

“Of course,” Arya says, and hands the kids their prize--two five dollar bills. This is thankfully what they expect from her--she has no idea what children want as a present and figures money will be just as appreciated.

Arya follows the kids into the kitchen and finds Sansa and Tyrion cooking pasta and sauteing some vegetables. 

“Looks good,” Arya says. “I hope you didn’t let Tyrion make the dessert again, though.”

“Hey. I happen to be an expert dessert maker,” Tyrion says, giving her a hug and handing her a glass of wine. “The souffle just wasn’t cooked properly that one time.”

“Or cooked at all,” Sansa says. She hugs Arya as well. 

Arya does enjoy coming over to Sansa’s house; with the kids and the dog it’s always loud and happy. She tends to lock herself inside her own place with the shades drawn and sometimes forgets how nice it is to occasionally be around the people she loves. There’s not that many of them left. Jon moved to Brazil with his wife Dany, the president of Brazil’s daughter. Now that’s a long story. Brandon and Rick live in Switzerland, after the car accident that paralyzed Bran a year after Edward was killed, he couldn’t stand to live in the US anymore, and Rick helps to take care of him. Arya needs to visit them all soon; she does miss her dumb brothers.

Sansa and Tyrion met when Cersei was running for president at the same time Edward was; they went to many events together and Tyrion was always making Sansa laugh. Once the assassination happened, they didn’t speak for a long time, but reconnected a few years later and immediately fell in love and married. It was an unusual pairing, seeing that Tyrion’s sister was responsible for Sansa losing so many people she loves, but Sansa never blamed him for his sister’s sins. 

During dinner, Sansa talks excitedly about running for senator, which she is now old enough to do. Tyrion and Arya have been helping to run the campaign, but it’s been going so well, they hardly need to do anything. Sansa is the daughter of a former US president, one who was assassinated, plus she’s beautiful and charming. The campaign practically runs itself. To Arya, being a senator sounds boring as fuck, but it seems to make Sansa happy. The fact that she and Tyrion and the kids would have to move to Washington DC if she gets elected doesn’t seem to faze her, either. 

“You’re going to need a lot of bodyguards if you win,” Arya reminds her sister. 

“I know, you’ve told me like a million times,” Sansa says, shaking her head. The lack of perspective Sansa has for her safety makes Arya crazy. 

“Your sister-in-law is potentially one of the biggest terrorists in the world. You should probably be at least a little worried about security,” Arya says. She tries to ignore that familiar feeling in her stomach when she talks about Cersei yet again. She wanted to be the one to end Cersei’s life, and yet she’s never even gotten close. Well, there was that one time…

Tyrion pours himself more wine. “I’ll drink to that.” He gulps down a large sip of the wine. “Once again, I apologize for my sister. If it helps, she was really mean to me when I was baby. Also, if Gregor Clegane is still her number one bodyguard, nobody has a chance against her. I swear that man is unkillable.”

Sansa glances at Arya, as she always does when a Clegane is mentioned, but Arya doesn’t respond. Instead she also pours more wine and drinks it faster than Tyrion did. It’s still a sore subject. 

When the pasta has been devoured, Sansa brings out a chocolate cake that thankfully Tyrion did not make. 

“This reminds me of when Mom tried to make a cake on our second night in the White House,” Sansa says, smiling slightly. “Dad told her that they had people who could do that for us now, but she wanted life to be as normal as possible while we lived there. So much for that…”

This is why Arya doesn’t come to Sansa’s house more often. She prefers not to think so much about the past and all the crap that happened to them. It’s been 10 years, at some point it’s time to stop reliving the trauma and move on. Not that she’s made much progress with that exactly, but Sansa never lets anything go. It’s frustrating.

"I think I'm going to head home," Arya says. "Thanks for dinner, guys."

"Nonsense," Tyrion says, and fills her wine glass to the top. "Stay with us tonight. You can go home and brood in silence tomorrow."

Sansa chuckles. "Yes, please stay with us tonight. You’ve had too much wine to drive home, anyway.”

As much as she wants to be alone, Arya accepts the invitation. Tyrion's right--she can go home and dread the future any time. Tonight she will be drunk and--sort of--happy.

*****

The bright sun shining through the curtains in the guest bedroom is what wakes Arya up in the morning--that, and her raging headache, obviously brought on by all the wine she partook in with Sansa and Tyrion. Groaning, she gets out of bed and finds the Advil and glass of water Sansa thoughtfully put by her bedside before going to bed.

After taking a very long, hot shower and slowly getting dressed, Arya calls Rose back. As much as she wants to avoid talking to someone who she's tried desperately hard to leave in the past, Rose deserves an answer.

"Thank the gods you called me back," Rose says as soon as the call connects. "This is it, Arya. What we've always talked about. The moment is here."

Arya tries to keep calm, tries to keep the panic from eating her stomach whole. She doesn't answer, and instead lets Rose keep talking.

"The threat has become critical. We have very little time, so please, just consider doing this one last job for us."

"I've been out too long. I don't want to go back," Arya says, sounding like a petulant teenager and not caring. "That's not me anymore."

Rose exhales. "I know that, Arya. Everyone knows that. But we need you. You are the only one who knows exactly what needs to happen. Please. I'm literally begging you, and you know how much I hate that."

"No, Rose. I don't want anything to do with this. Please don't make this any harder for me."

Rose scoffs. "Harder for _you?_ Cersei Lannister is a national threat. Ever since losing her brother, she is a loose cannon who teamed up with some of the biggest terrorist cells in the world, and she has access to a great deal of weapons and cash. Right now, she's being considered the biggest potential threat the country has seen in a long time. And she’s done waiting. It's go-time, Arya."

Arya is not going to fall for this. Even though all she wants in this godforsaken world is to finally rid the world of this evil woman, this is not her life anymore. “Surely you've trained other people who can get the job done by now. And if you haven't, why not?"

"You are the only one who knows exactly what needs to happen," Rose repeats. 

“Even if I am, I’m not interested. I left that life behind and I can’t go back.”

"Arya, please, we need--"

Arya hangs up on Rose and turns her phone off. Of course she wants to pack up and go wherever Rose needs her, but that's not what Arya does anymore. She's a simple girl with a simple life. 

At least that's what she tries to tell herself, over and over, every single day until she goes to sleep and dreams about it.

*****

Arya could get work at any number of places who are in need of the skills that she possesses; she's had so many offers from so many people that it's almost laughable by now. Hit man, spy, bodyguard for a high powered official's child--the list goes on. As much as she truly wants to live on the fringes of darkness again, she's still giving that normal, boring life a chance. It's been nearly a decade since her father, mother and brother were killed. She'd been on the run until four years ago, and it took her a while to dig herself out of the deep hole of depression she'd been in once she stopped to take a breath. Sansa had taken her in, and she was patient while Arya got her shit together.

For the past two years, Arya has been working as a graphic designer for an advertising firm. Obviously she never imagined herself doing this kind of work, and sometimes she finds it so fucking boring she wants to jump out of a window, but it's fine. It gives her something to do during the day and it's relatively mindless work. As long as she focuses on the task in front of her, the thoughts of walking out of the building in the middle of the day, driving to the airport and booking a flight to wherever she doesn’t have to think about designing an ad for a mustard company are kept at bay.

She does tend to worry about that dark part of her that took over for so long. How is she going to ignore it forever? Sometimes all she wants to do is pick up a dagger and push it through someone’s neck. It gives her a lot of pleasure to think of doing that again, and then she feels guilty about it. It’s a never-ending cycle that Arya doesn’t know how to end. But she’s giving it her best shot.

After work, Arya gets a drink or two with her co-workers (best cure for a hangover, she's found). They're nice people, she thinks. Of course they know about her father and the events surrounding the assassination, but her co-workers all seem to have come to an agreement at some point not to grill her on the details. They all have safe lives, safe pasts, and they have no idea what she's been through--only the story the media has chosen to tell. Of course she prefers it that way. She can always talk to Sansa, since her sister knows it all, but Sansa still doesn't get it. Sansa likes her stable life full of political aspirations, her morning routine of getting the kids ready for the day, of going on date nights with Tyrion when they can get a baby-sitter. The only person who would truly understand...

_No._

When the night is winding down, Hannah, one of Arya's co-workers that she least wants to murder in her sleep, brings Arya a shot of tequila.

"Drink this," Hannah says, putting the shot down in front of her.

"Why?"

"Because I want to ask you a question you don't want to answer."

Arya considers this. Why not? She's had enough to drink to divulge her almost-friend Hannah in whatever she wants to know. So Arya grabs the tequila and downs it, slamming the plastic cup on the table when she's done.

"Wow, okay. Good. So I just want to know one thing."

"Go for it," Arya says. "I'm ready."

"What would you do if you ever saw Cersei Lannister again? Like, if you were in the same room with her? I would kill that bitch so fast, she would never see me coming.”

Well, that was not the question Arya was expecting. Or wanting.

The question takes her off guard, and it’s so complicated that she almost wants to laugh. And she doubts Cersei would never see Hannah coming--Hannah is loud and would have no idea how to disguise herself properly. Arya could teach her a few things.

“Not sure… we’d have some words, I’d imagine,” Arya replied. Actually, Arya has a very detailed plan of what she’d like to do to Cersei, and it involves tweezers, handcuffs, drain cleaner, and some scissors, among other interesting implements.

“Just words?” Hannah asks, looking way too excited for this line of questioning.

“I mean, yeah, I’d love to kill her, but… I just don’t have the balls, I guess.” She feels like an idiot telling this obvious lie, but Hannah buys it. 

"That's... disappointing," Hannah says. "But whatever! Let me get you another shot. We can think of really disgusting and elaborate ways to kill her.”

Arya laughs and lets Hannah buy her a few more shots. It helps numb the real answer to the question. 

When she's done trying to be a normal drunk member of society, Arya takes an Uber home. On the way, she gets another text from Gendry. _You still haven't answered, but I won't give up. I can come to Austin in a few weeks if you can't come to Philadelphia. Or we can meet in the middle! Let me know._

Arya sighs. Gendry was her next door neighbor in Austin before her father was president. She had such a huge crush on him, but when she went to Philadelphia (where he’s making his name as a blacksmith) to visit him a few years ago, something just wasn’t right. They had a connection, but Arya didn’t know what to do about it. So, as has become her habit, she did nothing. But Gendry is so persistent, and he hasn’t given up yet. Arya texts him back.

_Raincheck? I'll call you next week_

A little abrupt, but she doesn't have the energy to placate him at the moment.

As soon as the Uber drops her off at the house, Arya's senses are on high alert. Her gate is open, for one thing, and she always closes that damn thing when she leaves. Although one of her neighbors could have opened it, or maybe even a stiff breeze jostled it, she still takes precautions as she enters her home. 

When she unlocks the door, she instantly reaches for the coat rack next to the door. Before even turning the light on, in one swift movement she grabs her bow, nocks up the arrow, and points it at the obvious shadow coming from her kitchen.

"Who the fuck has a bow and arrow in 2019? Did you get a job at Medieval Times and bring home the props?"

_No._

Arya knows that voice can only belong to one human being in the world, but it's not possible. She turns the light on and reveals her mysterious kitchen stranger.

"Surprise," Sandor says, and Arya, who prides herself on being prepared for every kind of situation at all times, is stunned speechless.


	2. Chapter 2

**January 1st, 2010 - captivearya.livejournal.com - Happy new year, I fucking guess… the Hound is off trying to steal something or murder someone, IDK and i don’t care - I’m at the library on new years day using thier computer to update my private journal that no one can see. Ha ha. My life’s a joke. I don't know how he passed the test to be secret service... aren't only good guys picked to do that? he's a criminal! Nice job us government. It’s been almost 3 months since this all happened and he is not showing any signs of letting me go.**

**Yesterday he taught me how to stab someone in the heart. We are in Ohio--one of cersei’s dudes tried to follow us when we were at that motel in Kentucky and TH (the Hound, duh) tried to lose him on the road but he still found us so we got out of the car on the side of the road in the middle of the night and I begged him to let me be the one to kill him. TH didn’t want me too but finally agreed when I said I needed to learn. So he knocked him out and I stabbed him with the dagger and then he died. I really liked it. I Think TH was a little scared how easy I killed that guy. Maybe he should be scared. I know how to kill people now.**

**I miss mom and dad. IDK where Sansa and the boys are, TH won’t let me use a phone to call anyone who might know and he doesn’t even have a cell phone so i can’t steal while he sleeps. So lame… I know they r worried about me but I sort of like being invisible for a while… Oh well. Hopefully TH will let me kill someone again soon**

*****

Sandor Clegane, her former captor, is standing in her kitchen. Although the years have changed his appearance somewhat--his beard is going gray, for one thing--it's unmistakably him. His long, dark hair, his brown, angry eyes. And the scars, obviously. The burns on his face will always be a dead giveaway. She asked him once why he doesn't just get surgery to fix them. He just told her to fuck off. Arya figures the scars are just as much part of his identity as the rest of him, even though they are hard to disguise and usually give him away when he's trying to be incognito. It's already hard for a 6'6 man with a sailor's mouth to go unnoticed. Thankfully Arya has the opposite problem. No one ever sees her coming or pays attention to her, unless she wants them to. She looks quite different than she did during her father’s presidency, and disguising herself is easy when she needs it to be.

Arya is angry that she never saw this coming. She didn't even question that Sandor had died when she left him behind. Of course he wasn't dead. What a fucking rookie mistake. She's so mad, she almost forgets how much she misses him. Arya misses her mother, her father, and her brothers all the time, and they’re with her in some small way with every step she takes. But the way she misses Sandor is different. He was the first person in her life who acknowledged her true self, and tried to help her cultivate it. Unlike everyone else, he never discouraged her from finding and exploring that dark part of her soul, and since he’s been gone, she’s had to hide it away in the recesses of her mind. She fears she’ll never meet anyone else like him, and that no one will ever understand her better. This is a thought that sometimes keeps her up at night. It’s so goddamn annoying. 

"So. You’re not dead,” Arya says, her heart beating wildly. She has no idea how to feel right now. Mostly she's glad he's alive. But some part of her wishes he was still dead. It's just easier that way.

“Aren’t you the little detective,” Sandor says mockingly. “No. I am not dead. No thanks to you.”

Arya has a lot of questions, and she probably needs to apologize for leaving him for dead, but… where would she even begin? They have a lot to talk about, but before Arya can think of what to say, thankfully Sandor quickly changes the subject.

"You don't have any fucking chicken in your refrigerator, girl," Sandor says, and Arya chuckles. "Why not?"

"I'm a vegan now. I never have any chicken in my refrigerator."

Arya wants to laugh at the look on his face. It's the only thing she can think of saying that would actually hurt his feelings. 

"That's truly a shame," Sandor says with as much disgust as she's ever heard. "You’ve become one of ‘them’ now. How... revolting."

"Revolting? When did you learn how to say big words?"

"You are a rude little bitch, aren't you? For fuck's sake."

Arya finally lets herself laugh. She really has missed this idiot. "I'm not actually a vegan. I just haven't been to the grocery store this week. I'll order a pizza."

"Thank the gods. I'd rather go out. You're living in Texas now, there's a steak joint on every corner in this fucking shithole. Let's go."

Arya shakes her head. "You know I can't be seen with you. Come on."

Sandor looks really, actually hurt for about a split second. "Oh. Right. Order the fucking pizza, then. I'm starving." His Scottish brogue is one of the things she remembers fondly about him.   
Obviously a lot of her memories of him are not so fond, but it wasn’t all bad, she’d have to admit.

Arya orders the pizza--along with some chicken wings for her friend--and they sit down at Arya’s kitchen table while they wait. This is so surreal, Sandor looking across from her and having a conversation like it’s totally fucking normal. Arya hasn’t seen him in eight years, and she’s tried to change everything about herself since then. But something about him makes her feel like a naive teenager again, and it’s way too unsettling. 

“I can’t believe you and the little bird moved back to Texas. Texas, of all places. And she married the imp! What were you two thinking? After all you’ve been through,” Sandor says, shaking his head.

“Mostly that we want to move on with our lives and put all of this shit behind us,” Arya replies. “It’s where our mother was from. We have roots here. And you can’t say ‘imp’ anymore, it’s just rude.”

“Fuck the dwarf. I have an aunt in fucking Delaware, you don’t see me tracking her down.“

“And yet you tracked _me_ down,” Arya calmly says, to see his reaction.

“Yes,” Sandor says, looking her in the eye, making her nervous. “I did track you down.”

“And why is that, exactly?”

“What, we can’t have some foreplay before you start trying to fuck me?” Sandor asks. Arya has to laugh--she’d almost forgotten how crass he can be at all times of the day. As a naive 14 year old, this shocked her at first before she got used to it. At 24, hardly anything surprises her anymore. Sandor is mostly to thank for that.

“Why are you here?” Arya wants to get to the point. Obviously he’s not here to enjoy some garlic Parmesan chicken wings and go to a late night movie.

“I’m here because Rose asked me to speak to you,” Sandor says, shrugging. “I do what I’m told... for the right amount of money.”

Arya had a bad feeling that that was the case. Why else would he be here? You can’t say no to Rose without expecting her to keep trying. Arya should know better.

“Yeah? How do you know Rose?”

“None of your fucking business,” he says predictably.

“I would disagree, seeing that you’re in my house and presumably you want something from me.”

Sandor scoffs. “Oh, and that means I owe you an explanation?”

“Yes.”

“I forgot how annoying you can be. Rose asked me to come here because she needs you on the team. That dumb Lannister bitch is getting closer to executing her long-term plan to destroy this country. Rose has it in her little head that only you can stop her. So that’s why I’m here.” 

“How do you even know Rose?” Arya is curious in spite of herself.

“She’s a friend,” he says, avoiding Arya’s eyes as he tells her this.

“A friend, huh?”

“She came to me while I was recovering. You know, from nearly dying.” And apparently that’s all she is going to get out of him about Rose, as the look on his face indicates. She decides not to press the issue. Yet. 

“Fine, whatever. Why don’t you just tell me what she wants from me?” Arya is ready to get to the point. If Rose sent Sandor here, Arya knows that this is real, and as much as she wants to hide from her role in this situation, it’s dawning on her now how impossible that may be. And part of her is relieved that it’s finally come to this. Finally… revenge.

“She wants you to find Cersei and kill her, and make sure you get all the other shitbags involved in the plot, too,” Sandor says. “What did you expect, a tea party?”

“Of course not,” Arya is quick to say. “Where is Cersei now?”

“She was last seen in Paris with some of her goons, so that's where Rose wants you to go first. If she's left France, there's a good chance she's at some godforsaken castle in Brussels, where there's some talk that she's planning a practice run before she comes to America."

Arya doesn’t ask about the nature of this attack just yet. She gets the jist, anyway--blow a lot of things up, kill a lot of people. The usual.

“And when does Rose want me to leave?”

Sandor reaches into his back pocket and gives her a plane ticket to Paris. 

“This ticket is for 9AM tomorrow…” 

“I always knew you could read.”

Arya goes through about 17 different emotions while Sandor studies her. She has to leave her house, her job, Sansa and Tyrion, her niece and nephew… and there’s always a chance she’ll never come back. 

“What happens if I don’t agree to this?” Arya asks, even though she already knows the answer.

“Then Cersei wins,” Sandor says, shrugging. “Apparently only you can stop her, Rose has told me plenty of times. Cersei will move forward with her plans and probably everyone you love will die. But why should that concern you? You’ve already lost most of your family. And besides, you have a great job and lovely condo with wooden floors. Why would you want to change anything about that?”

Arya resents this. “I’ve worked hard to move on from my past. Maybe I like the life I have now. Maybe I don’t want to go back to the darkness.”

Sandor regards her closely. She hates it--she realizes that even though he has no idea what she’s been doing since she left him behind, he knows her true existence. He’s experienced what she’s capable of, and she’s only gotten better. Not to mention, he’s seen her at her very lowest, when she had nothing left to lose. 

“Don’t fucking lie to me, girl. I can see it in your eyes. You want to kill that bitch, and this shitty life you have in this shitty state can’t give you any kind of pleasure. Not like the kind you had before. I’ve seen what happens to you when you stick a dagger in a person's heart. It makes you happy--you enjoy seeing the light go off in their eyes. You’re just like me. No use denying it.”

He’s right. God, she fucking hates when he’s right. She doesn't even try to argue his point.

“Let’s say I agree to this. Who did Rose assign to come with me? I hope it’s not that Matthew kid she sent with me to Mexico--he almost got me killed like twelve times.”

Sandor looks at her in a way she can only describe as mischievous. He pulls another ticket out of his pocket and hands it to her. For some reason this never occurred to her, but she can’t help but feel immense relief that he’s the one to come with her on this journey.

“Really? Don't you have some urgent business elsewhere?"

"No."

"Well... _why_? Why would you want to come with me? You don't care about Cersei, you never have. And when was the last time you fought for anyone but yourself?”

“I fought for you, didn’t I?” He says, and her heart breaks a little. But then she starts to understand.

“Wait--Gregor is with Cersei, isn’t he?”

Sandor nods. “Yes. He’s with her.”

“So… this isn’t about coming with me or guarding me, it’s about you finally getting revenge on your brother.”

“What does it matter why I’m going? You need a guard and I need money. If I also happen to kill my brother at the same time, that’s just a bonus. Get over yourself.”

Arya scoffs, but she doesn’t disagree with the logic. She also inherently understands that it’s not just his brother. After all the time they spent together on the road, for two entire years, he   
and Arya grew close in a weird, twisted way. She knows he feels it’s kind of his duty to protect her. And although she long ago decided she didn’t need anyone to protect her, if anyone is   
going to do it, she wants it to be Sandor.

Arya looks around at her condo and doesn’t see a single thing she’d miss if she were to walk away right now. Sansa has all the Stark family keepsakes at her house. Most of Arya’s possessions are things she can quickly pack up and leave with at a moment’s notice. Now that she thinks about it, she’s probably been preparing for this day for a long time. She will obviously miss her sister, but Sansa gets it. At least Arya hopes she does. She’ll send her a text before leaving, she decides. 

“If you go with me, it will be on my terms, yes? Because I’m not going if you’re going to dictate our every move. Those days are long over.”

“Yes, yes, it’s all you, my friend. Long over for me, too. I have no interest in a repeat of that miserable time of our lives. But don’t expect me to carry your baggage, either. And if you are rusty with your knife, I am not going to be your weapons teacher. If you haven’t learned everything you need to know by now, I’m not going to be the one to show you.”

Arya chuckles. “I’m not ‘rusty’ with anything. Don’t worry about that. And I’ll probably be showing _you_ a thing or two.”

Sandor looks doubtful, but doesn’t argue with her.

“Fine. I’ll do it,” Arya says, and Sandor nods, looking slightly satisfied. “And you can stay here tonight.”

Before Sandor can argue, the doorbell rings and Arya fetches the pizza and wings. The two of them eat together and make civilized small talk (as much as Sandor is capable of such things). 

After dinner, Arya gets out a blanket from her closet and lays it on the only sofa she owns, which she bought at a garage sale a few years ago because it was cheap and not falling apart. Sandor is obviously too tall to sleep on the sofa, but he accepts her blanket and pillow gratefully.

Before she goes to bed, Sandor grabs her by the arm. She turns to look at him.

“You’re making the right choice, girl.”

Arya nods, gives him a small smile, and he lets go. The sad thing is, she knows he’s right. Because although she’s been trying to move on from that girl he knew so long ago, she realizes that she never really did. She’s just been waiting for a real opportunity to come back to that life, and now here it is, right in front of her. 

What a relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a few notes before we go on:  
> \- In this world, guns aren't a thing. Maybe they were outlawed or perhaps just weren't invented yet, but they don't exist here. Mostly because if everyone in this story had guns, it would just be too easy. So... no guns. *shrugs*  
> \- I am looking for a beta reader to help look over the remaining chapters. Please let me know if this interests you.  
> \- Sandor/Arya are end game...just in case you couldn't tell by the tags. I didn't want anyone to get emotionally involved if that's not your jam.  
> \- I decided Sandor is Scottish because Rory is and I like his accent.  
> \- Thanks again for reading, and kudos/feedback are life.


	3. Chapter 3

**www.reddit.com/r/conspiracytheories  
Cersei Lannister is behind the assassination of President Stark**

**Posted by u/CerseiDidIt  
13 hours ago--August 12th, 2010**

_This is my favorite conspiracy theory… Cersei Lannister didn’t even make it past the first primary in the presidential election, obviously. This made her crazy, but it’s not what turned her into a terrorist. What happened was her brother Jamie Lannister married someone she didn’t like, her name was like Brienna or something, and Cersei was totally fucking jealous. There are rumors about her and Jamie but I’m too polite to mention them (let’s just say her kids may be his kids, too--not that it matters since she sent all three to boarding school and hardly ever sees them--but that’s another story entirely). Anyway, she was jealous of Brienna and Jamie but then Jamie died in a car accident when on the way to an Edward Stark rally (this is totally 100% true) and Cersei went all the way crazy. That’s why she had Stark killed and why she’s been plotting the downfall of America ever since. I hope someone finds the crazy bitch soon._

*****

Arya’s alarm goes off ridiculously early, and she wakes up to start the process of leaving her life behind. Everything she needs is packed in one small suitcase. She checks three times that she has Needle, the dagger her brother Jon gave her before leaving for Brazil, in her bag. Needle is a vital part of the upcoming plan.

Once Arya is sure that everything she needs is packed, she goes for a run. She tries to clear her mind when she runs, just think of her feet moving on the pavement, the blue sky above her, the way her body is going forward. But today she has a lot to think about. Today she’s leaving her life behind. With Sandor. She’s interested to see how their trip is going to go now that he’s not in charge. It will definitely be different.

Sandor is also awake when she makes her way to the living room after showering and packing. He’s wearing a black hoodie, dark blue jeans, and… cowboy boots. Arya does not comment on this because where would she even start? Again, she notices that he looks like the same ol’ asshole she left behind, just a little older. There’s the slightest, tiniest thought in her mind that he looks pretty good, actually. In spite of herself, Arya is usually only attracted to extremely tall men with long hair, and she supposes that’s partially due to spending so much time with him in her formative years. Just one more thing to add to the list of Annoying Things About the Hound that she keeps in her head. 

Thankfully Sandor made some coffee and they have a cup while talking about the plan for the day. There’s some kind of mechanism in her head that makes this all seem normal to her, more normal than getting up and going to work and coming home and going to bed and doing the same fucking thing the next day. 

They share an Uber to the airport, and thankfully the driver is not in a chatty mood. Arya takes this time to send some texts she knows will piss some people off. She starts with Sansa.

_S - I have to leave town for a while. R gave me an assignment that I can't refuse. Sorry I didn't get to tell you in person. Don't worry too much - TH is with me. Not dead. Crazy right? Love to you, T and the kids. I'll be back._

The next text goes to her boss at the advertising firm. _Adam - I'm so sorry but I've been called away on urgent family business and I'm not sure how long it will take. I've enjoyed working with you and thanks for everything. Give my regards to my co-workers - Arya_ She realizes it's not good form to quit through a text message, but thankfully she doesn't give a single shit about that job--never did. 

The last one she sends hurts to write, but Gendry needs to know. _G - I have to leave for a little while, something has come up. Please don't wait for me, that is all I ask of you. We had our moment together and now it's over. I did love you once, but too much has happened since then. Thank you for understanding._

She sighs after she sends that one. Sandor, who was looking out of the window and spacing out, looks over at her. "Letting your boyfriend know that you're leaving?"

"I don't have a boyfriend. But yes. Do you want to text anybody?"

"Yes, give me your phone." Arya hands him the phone, curious who he's going to text. But in one swift move, Sandor lowers the window in the car and throws the phone out of it. They both turn around and watch as the next car drives over it, smashing it instantly.

"That wasn't necessary," Arya says, annoyed but not surprised. "And you didn't text anybody, anyway."

"No one cares where I am," Sandor snarls. "Those who know I'm still alive can figure out how to find me."

Arya wants to know where he's been all these years and how Rose found him, but figures that's a conversation for another time.

At the airport, they read magazines and avoid talking about anything important. And as Arya knew he would, Sandor falls asleep almost as soon as the plane takes off. Arya never sleeps on planes but Sandor can’t seem to get through a 30 minute flight without snoozing, much less a 10 hour one. This works fine for her--she can be on high alert while he rests, and he can do the same for her when necessary. They have an unspoken system, which she remembers every little thing about even after all these years.

To prove this point, right before Sandor falls asleep, he reaches into his pocket and offers Arya two sticks of gum. She smiles gratefully at him and takes the gum. Back in the early days, even though she was used to flying, being in a plane without her family would make her nervous. Sandor understood that she needed something to get her through the plane taking off, so he’d always offer her gum to calm her down. For some reason it would work. She likes that he still remembers that about their time together.

*****

The two of them are in a rented car--a hideous brown Ford Escort that would never attract any attention--and sitting outside a diner in one of the shadier Paris neighborhoods. Arya knows Sandor hates France since they've been here together before, and she knows he would rather be any place else.

It's past midnight and they're both tired but they're trying to shake it off. Sandor is eating an apple in the driver's seat and Arya is messing with the radio station, although it doesn't matter--every song is still in French. 

"Turn the fucking thing off, I can't listen to that shit anymore," he grumbles, and she does, because it's annoying her, too. 

"Remember when we used to fight over the radio? You always wanted to listen to some crappy 80s metal band and I wanted to listen to, I don't know, Fleetwood Mac or whatever."

"Yes, I remember. But as I recall, you didn't mind some of that 'crappy 80s metal' by the end of things."

Arya laughs. "Yeah. I even went to a Guns N' Roses concert a few years ago."

"Without me? What a bitch."

"I thought of you the whole time, don't worry."

Sandor lets himself grin for half a second, but then returns to his normal scowl. "I believe 'November Rain' was the last song to play before you left me on the side of the road."

Ah, there it is. Finally. Someone had to bring it up.

"Yes... I recall that as well." 

"You want to tell me why you did that, exactly?"

This is the conversation she wanted to avoid for as long as possible, but of course he's still curious, and she supposes she owes him an explanation.

"You'd been stabbed. You were in bad shape. If I took you to the hospital myself, there would be too many questions. And you had really, _really_ pissed me off that day."

Sandor nods. "I remember. I said something about Sansa that you didn't like."

"You said you should have fucked her bloody because it would have given you at least one happy memory. I think you were trying to get me to leave you on the side of the road, so I did."

She shrugs as though it was a perfectly sensible thing to do, but of course she's always regretted it at least somewhat. By that point, he was more than her kidnapper. He was her protector, her teacher, and almost what she'd consider a friend. But she still hated him for taking her in the first place and she wanted to be free of him. Sandor was not going to let that happen unless something extreme occurred to make it possible. It's almost a coincidence that he was stabbed that day; it was a random convenience store hold-up and not even someone on their list. He was protecting her when it happened, but that didn't matter to her when she left him on the road. He was still the same old dipshit who kidnapped her nearly two years before, and she saw her chance for freedom and took it.

"But I begged you-literally begged--to kill me. Why didn't you do it if you hated me so much?"

"I didn't want to be the one to kill you. And I didn't want to watch you die. I was sure it wouldn't take long for you to die--you were really messed up. I guess... I wanted to teach you a lesson."

"What lesson? That teenage girls are a pain in my ass? I already knew that after spending so much time with you."

"No... that you can't do whatever you want and not suffer consequences. You can't just take me away from my family and then say cruel things to me and not pay for it in the end. So... that's why I didn't kill you."

"Because you wanted me to suffer."

"No... as I said, I thought you would die quickly anyway. But of course you didn't."

Arya can tell he still doesn't understand. There's no way she can ever really explain why she didn't do it. Not even she gets it herself sometimes.

"So what happened after I left?" She's always wanted to ask.

Sandor takes another bite of the apple and doesn't answer her at first. She waits patiently. 

"I'm not going to give you my entire history, if that's what you're thinking. But someone driving on that road you left me on spotted me about a quarter mile down the field next to it. I still don't know how they saw me, but they did. It turned out to be a pastor and his wife. I couldn't speak and kept passing out on the way to the hospital. They stayed by my side when we got there, and they waited through all 10 hours of the surgery that saved my life. I had nowhere to go so they let me stay at their house for a few months while I healed and got stronger. I worked hard for them, and I owed them everything. Well, long story short, I came back from a walk around the neighborhood one day and they had been murdered in cold blood. For nothing... they had nothing, and the thieves got nothing, and killed them anyway. So finding the bastards who did that took another couple of months, but I found the cunts. After that, I roamed around for a while. It doesn't matter that I used to be Secret Service. Nobody cared about that. So I was a bouncer, a valet, a dog groomer... that's when Rose caught up with me. I've been working for her ever since."

Arya nods, taking it all in. He had a rough go of it, she sees. 

"Well, if I had killed you, you wouldn't be here today..."

"I don't know if that's a good thing or not," Sandor mutters. Arya doesn't know either. "What did you end up doing when you left me for dead?"

Arya also takes a minute to respond. "I went to Prague. I knew someone there. Have you ever heard of the House of Black and White?"

Sandor nods. "I've heard the rumors about it. You were trained there?"

"Yes," she says, and does not explain further. It’s too much for now. "That took up a few years. After that I came back to the States and took on whatever job I was hired for, which was... a lot. It turns out many people find use for a female assassin. It was something I was very good at doing, and enjoyed more than I should have. I was really just a baby when we were in the White House, so with a bit of disguise no one ever recognized me. I stopped a few years ago, though. Moved back to Austin, lived with Sansa for a while. Found my own place, got a job."  
Arya shrugs. That's her life in a nutshell, but there's so much more than that. Sandor looks impressed that she took her skills so far in life.

She hesitates before she tells him the other thing, because she's not entirely sure she wants him to know. But he should probably be aware of all of the information since they are in this together.

"There's something else. Right before I moved back to Texas... I was in Vancouver, because I heard Cersei was hiding out there with Nelson Madison. He's some big shot drug company CEO or something with ties to a few of the bigger terrorist organizations; there's always been rumors that they are together but he denies it. Anyway, I was in the apartment building she was seen in a few days before, and I thought I saw her out of the corner of my eye. I followed her for blocks and I'm absolutely sure it was her. She went into a Walgreens and I waited outside for her."

Sandor waits for her to continue, and when she doesn’t, he throws his hands in the air. “And? What the fuck happened next?”

“I couldn’t do it. After seven years of wanting her dead more than anything else in the world, I couldn’t do it. I hid around the corner and watched her walk away. She looked back before crossing the street and I swear we made eye contact for a few seconds. But then she was gone, and I couldn’t do it.”

“I don’t believe it. You could do it, and you _wanted_ to do it. So what was the real reason?”

Arya shakes her head. “I really don’t know. I’ve asked myself that hundreds of times.”

Sandor looks thoughtful. “You once told me that you enjoyed seeing the look in their eye when they know it’s over. Someone who thinks like that doesn’t hesitate when the person they’ve wanted to kill for almost an entire decade is right in front of them.”

She wonders how in the hell he remembers her saying that. It was so long ago. She barely remembers it herself.

“I wish I had a better answer,” Arya says, and Sandor looks rather disappointed.

Arya sees movement out of the corner of her eye. She turns around and sees two men trying to sneak into the back entrance of the diner. 

Sandor turns to see what she's looking at. "Let's go, you know what to do, right?"

"Of course," Arya says, and the two of them get out of the car. 

They follow the men into the back of the diner. The men turn around when they see them come in. 

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" The tall guy, whom Arya assumes is Jason Dean, one of Cersei's goons. The other smaller one is Joshua Bernard. He's the one Arya would like to get her hands on personally--she recently found out that he was part of the masked team of men who assassinated her father. He's been working for Cersei a long time. And Arya is ready to put an end to his employment. It doesn't matter how much time has passed--Arya will always remember.

"We'd like to have a bit of a chat," Sandor says. Arya nods. She knows she hardly looks like a threat to anyone--which is the point--but Sandor is looking particularly threatening today, with his black hoodie and cowboy boots. Plus he's just big and scary as usual.

"We don't have anything to chat about, partner," Joshua says, and Arya wants to laugh since that's kind of a dumb thing to say to a man like Sandor.

"I think you do. My friend here would like to know where Cersei Lannister is. And she wants to know right now."

Joshua and Jason take a good look at Arya and she sees the recognition come to their faces, which pleases her. At least they'll know why they're dying.

The two men glance at each other and make a quick calculation. Arya can tell they want to go for the knives in their back pocket, but instead they keep walking. Arya and Sandor quickly follow them into the restaurant, where there appears to be some sort of thug convention. Arya recognizes most of the faces as having something to do with Cersei. 

It takes only a few seconds for the conversations to wind down and for all the attention to be on the two people who entered the room without an invitation. Arya instantly realizes that she’s not about to kill one or two dudes, but a whole room full of them. Sandor comes to this realization as well and she knows he’s getting ready to clean house.

“Well, if it isn’t our favorite dead president’s daughter and her hound dog,” says a man Arya doesn’t recognize but is sure is one of Cersei’s bitches. He has a French accent, that she knows for sure. “I’m so honored that we are important enough to earn a visit from you two.”

“Tell us where Cersei is and no one has to get hurt,” Arya says, knowing that this is probably not going to have an affect on the outcome of this afternoon’s events.

“I’d rather not,” the man says. Sandor leans over and says, “That’s Jackson Pasquale.”

“And he works for Cersei?”

“Does it matter? We’re going to kill the fucking guy anyway.” 

“Yes, it matters! One of these guys knows where she is and we need that information.”

“Not really… if we kill everyone here, our next stop is Belgium, anyway. We’ll find someone there to give us the info.”

Everyone in the diner is staring at them now. Jackson looks quite impatient. “Well? Have you two decided who you’re going to try to kill yet?”

“Not yet,” Sandor says, and immediately takes out a knife and plunges it into the man nearest him. “But we’re going to start with him and keep going until someone wants to give us some valuable information.”

Arya watches as someone approaches Sandor from behind and she moves to instantly plunges a knife into their back before they can get too close. It’s been years since she’s killed anyone, and she can’t take a second to either enjoy or regret the feeling because now there’s a roomful of mad terrorists all ready to kill both of them--well, that’s not true; at least a dozen of them took one look at Sandor and ran out of the diner, tail between their legs. 

Arya fights off the few men who dare approach her, kicking one in the leg, causing him to fall, and then stabbing him in the stomach, another she plunges Needle into his back, and yet another, she manages to grab and piledrive him into the floor, breaking his neck. 

Joshua comes up behind her, thinking that he’s being quiet and covert, and she spins around and kicks him in the balls. He grabs them, wincing in pain, and then she stabs him in the stomach. It’s not a fatal wound; when she and Sandor are finished with everyone else, she’ll come back to him. 

More people flee out of the diner and the ones who don’t are all making their moves towards Arya and Sandor, who are doing their best to stab, kick, bite, or whatever else works to get them to stop. Blood is pooling on the floor and Arya slips in it, which leaves just enough room for one squirrely-looking dude to kneel down and try to stab Arya’s forearm. He cuts just enough to make it bleed before she trips him and plunges Needle through his chest. Sandor rushes over to help her up, and together they stab another damn guy who tries to act like he can take the two of them on. 

Jackson is watching all of this happen, and he doesn’t look impressed or scared; he looks like this has all been an unnecessary nuisance that interrupted his midnight tea party.

“Are you done yet?” He asks, looking at his watch. “I should probably be on my way if that will be all.”

“No, we are not done. We need to know where Cersei is, and who she is with, and then we’ll let you be on your way,” Arya says. 

“You could have just asked me that before you murdered all my associates. She’s in Berlin with Nelson Madison. They are planning something very sneaky, but don’t ask me what--I just lend her the money to do as she wishes.”

Arya looks over at Sandor. “Do you think we should let him live? He gave us the information we requested.”

“No,” Sandor says, and Arya nods as she throws her dagger across the room; they both watch as it lands directly into Jackson's chest. He slumps over and falls to the floor with a satisfying thud. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Sandor says.

“One sec,” Arya replies, and walks with a purpose back to Joshua, who is moaning in one of the booths.

“You're a dumb bitch--”

Arya slits his throat and watches for a second as he bleeds out and slowly dies. Arya wonders if he wanted to watch her father die in the same way, but he didn’t get to because he rushed off like a coward after assassinating him. 

“Now we can go,” Arya says, and the two of them leave as quickly as they entered.

Sandor and Arya run back to the Ford Escort and haul ass out of the alley. Once they're sure they haven't been spotted, Sandor drives into a parking lot of an auto parts store and turns the lights off. Arya can see the Eiffel Tower in the distance. She'll have to visit it someday.

The two of them look at each other and grin. And share a laugh. And then sober themselves again.

"Been a while for you?"

"Been a while for me," Arya says.

"Felt good, didn't it?"

"Better than I remember," Arya admits. 

"Me too," Sandor replies. "Me fucking too. You’ve learned some new tricks, I see. You have good aim."

“Yeah, I do,” Arya says. 

“How’s your arm?”

“It’s fine. He barely got me.”

“Let me see,” Sandor says, and he moves her sleeve up to look at the wound. “That looks like it at least stings a little…”

“Like I said… it’s fine,” Arya says, but Sandor isn’t paying attention. He finds a napkin in the glove compartment and retrieves a half-empty bottle of water from the backseat. He pours some water into the napkin and gently wipes the blood away from her arm. This is a surprisingly gentle act from Sandor and Arya is frankly not used to it. She thanks him in a soft voice and he nods, as though he was only doing his job. Maybe this version of Sandor is an older, softer version. One that can kill 15 dudes in as many minutes and then tend to her cuts and bruises. 

She’s intrigued. 

They sit there for a few minutes, catching their breath, taking it all in. Arya did her best to not return to a life of murder and darkness, but now that she's back... she can't wait for more.

“I guess we go to Germany now,” Arya says, texting Rose the details on what just happened. 

“I doubt that’s going to pan out to anything,” Sandor replies. “But I do enjoy a good German beer. Let’s go.”

****

They take turns driving to Berlin, since it’s only 11 hours from Paris. They talk about what just occurred and how they could have done it better.

In Berlin, first they go to a bar Sandor has been to before and they have a few too many beers, then they check out a few leads Rose sends them to check out just in case they work out, which they do not. When they’ve been in Berlin 24 hours, 12 hours of which they are both very drunk for, Rose tells them that Berlin is useless and it’s time to go to Brussels. They buy some plane tickets, sleep the entire plane ride over, and wake up refreshed when the plane lands. Now they have some real work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize the fighting scene is quite terrible but hopefully it's coherent enough to get the point across. Thanks again for reading and rock on.


	4. Chapter 4

**June 10th, 2010 - captivearya.livejournal.com - Today i cant stop thinking about mom & dad. Dad campaigned for president most of my young life and then was elected when I turned 9. U already know that because u are me, but anyway. I was too young to know any different and I grew up with secret service and the media and trying to be perfect for dad so i didn't disappoint him... TH gets on my fucking nerves and i wish i could leave all the time but i think I may not know what 2 do w/o him? that's why I dont escape i guess. cuz i think at this point i could and he wouldn't be able 2 find me. But I don’t know where I’d go.'**

**anyway. last night I dreamed about the time sansa and I played hide and go seek in the west wing. we kept finding each other so fast because we knew wherever the secret service agent kept looking, that's where the other one was. i guess that's kind of cheating. mom would also tell us not to chase each other in the white house because we were the presidents daughgters and had to set a good example. but she would always smile when she said it. i miss those times. it was before I killed, um... let's see now, 23 people. wow. TH is real impressed with how much i'm learning. I like to impress him. He was one of the secret service agents who played hide and seek with us... sansa really liked him and he was always getting her out of trouble, but I kept my distance from him. like it did me any good anyway.**

**we have found most of the people on my list. there's still Cersei but neither of us know where she is. I will find her someday - I _will_ kill her.**

*****

“So what’s the plan tomorrow?” Sandor asks Arya before they part for the evening. They’re staying at yet another beautiful hotel that Rose put them in. Arya would be fine with staying at some shithole motel, but she supposes the luxurious travel plans aren’t the worst thing in the world.

Arya looks at the email from Rose on her phone. “Looks like I’m going to the castle; they are having some kind of fancy dinner and dance thing. Rose says Cersei is definitely gone and right now she has no idea where, but one of her main guards, Roger Hawthorne, will be there. Apparently he’s a big perv who likes redheads. She sent me a wig and a pretty dress. Guess it’s going to be one of those kinds of nights.” Arya prefers not to use her “womanly wiles” to get information out of a person, but she’ll do it if she has to. She is so close to Cersei now, she’ll do practically anything at this point.

“Okay, sounds fucking boring but whatever. What time do we leave?”

“What makes you think you’re invited?”

“You in a dress? With a redhead wig on? Not a chance in hell I’m going to miss that,” he says, and she rolls her eyes.

“Fine, be ready by 7:00. And just a reminder, it’s black tie. So don’t wear blue jeans and an Aberdeen soccer shirt like usual.”

Sandor looks annoyed. “It’s football, not soccer. You always make that mistake. And I can dress up, woman. I’m not an animal. ”

“That has yet to be seen,” Arya says. She knows it’s football; it just always annoys him when she calls it soccer so of course she always calls it soccer. Sandor fake-glares at her, and they say their good nights.

*****

In the morning, Arya wakes up and goes for a walk outside the hotel. What she’s seen of Brussels on the way from the airport to the hotel, she finds that she loves. So now she’s going to act like a tourist and explore the city with her fanny pack on and everything.

Arya has traveled a lot, but Brussels seems to speak to her. She goes to museums and cafes, and she loves all the cute random statues on the side of the street, and the people she interacts with are all warm and inviting. 

After hearing so much about it, she decides to check out Cathedral of St. Michael and St. Gudula. Arya is not much of a spiritual person; she used to go to church with her parents as a kid but hasn’t been in one ever since they died. But something about this cathedral calls out to her. Arya has come to peace with the fact that she doesn't exactly live a moral life, but she does still seek some kind of spirituality during some of her more intense moments of complete emptiness. The cathedral makes her feel more peaceful than she’s been in a long time. 

She eats lunch at a small cafe and imagines what life would be like if she lived in Belgium. She knows it’s just a passing fantasy and everything is too complicated to think about relocating to another country, but still… something just feels right about it.

In the afternoon, she goes back to the hotel and does something she rarely allows herself to do at home--she takes a really long nap. Nobody calls her or knocks on her door or needs anything at all for these few hours she takes for herself. It’s glorious. When she wakes up, she is refreshed and ready to take on the evening.

Arya takes her time getting ready for this fancy affair she's been invited to. Although she usually does not spend a lot of time on her appearance, she wants to look her best this evening. Tonight she's going to find that asshole Roger Hawthorne and get information out of him, or else she will kill him. Either one is fine with her.

While she gets dressed and has a terrible time putting her wig on, Arya has a tiny thought nagging at her in the back of her mind. She and Sandor have been on the road for a month now, and while it's pretty much exactly the same as before, everything is different, too. Maybe since she's not his captive, or because she's not a teenager anymore, but he seems to take her seriously. He listens to her ideas and carefully considers them, and most of the time he's willing to enact them instead of his own. It's almost as though they're equals. 

There's something else, though. They are obviously growing closer, and not in the way Arya anticipated. It seems like every single day Arya has a moment where she is ridiculously attracted to Sandor before she shrugs it off and forgets about it altogether, at least until the next day when it happens again. Just yesterday, Sandor was looking at a map (he still refuses to use GPS, the stubborn bastard) to find the hotel, and just the way he was studying it so thoroughly, biting his lip and his eyes so focused on the task at hand... Arya had the weirdest feeling that she wanted to take the map from his big, strong hands. Do what with him after that, she hasn't figured that part out yet.

It's not all in her imagination, either. She notices him glancing at her when he thinks she's not looking. Sometimes he'll grab her arm or put his hand on her back to guide her in the right direction--any excuse to touch her, she thinks in the moment. And she doesn't hate it.

This is all quite unsettling, of course. He kidnapped her and took her on the road for almost two years to get money and whatever else he could get his hands on. To this day he’ll say he did it to protect her from even worse people than him but obviously that wasn’t the only reason. She did learn a lot from him, but at what cost? Needless to say, their relationship is pretty fuckin' weird.

When Arya is finished carefully applying her make-up, she inspects herself in the mirror. She looks like a totally different person with the auburn wig on; it helps to highlight her dark blue eyes. The push-up bra she bought specifically for the red, skintight dress she was wearing did a nice job of giving her some rare cleavage for the evening. Her high heels gave her at least 3 more inches. This is not the first time she's dressed up for an occasion like this, so it's not like she's never looked in the mirror and saw someone she hardly recognizes looking back at her. Auburn hair suits her, she thinks. She looks a little like Sansa, actually. This makes her smile for a moment.

There's a loud knock on her door and she knows it's Sandor, since she's running about five minutes late. A lot of things annoy him, but lateness is almost unforgivable in his eyes.

"I'm coming!" Arya yells at the door. She grabs her purse and makes sure she has everything she needs inside of it--a taser, lipstick, pepper spray, her wallet. 

She opens the door to Sandor's annoyed face, and he says, "It's about fucking time..." And then he sees her and somehow forgets how to talk for a second. Which is good because Arya seems to have lost the ability as well. Sandor Clegane is wearing a _tuxedo._ His usually stringy hair is actually brushed for once. His beard is trimmed and he looks, dare Arya say... _handsome._ There's no way to hide the facial scars without a hoodie, and he's not trying. Apparently the fact that someone might know him doesn't seem to be an issue for the crowd they're interacting with tonight.

"You like it?" Arya says when he hasn't picked his jaw up off the floor yet. Obviously he does, which pleases her. 

Sandor clears his throat and comes back to reality. "Yeah, you look good in red, I guess."

"You look nice, too," Arya says, and the two of them seem a little bit disgusted that they are complimenting each other. That's not their style.

"Now let's fucking go before I get another decade older."

Arya nods, and they walk down the long hall of the hotel to the elevators without speaking. Their driver opens the car door for Arya, and she thanks him. The ride is a short one, but Arya can't help but stare out of the window at the beautiful scenery. She's definitely going to come back soon, if not permanently someday.

But that's not something she shares with Sandor, because who knows what's going to happen on this journey. Nothing is guaranteed. 

They see the castle from almost a mile away, and obviously it's beautiful. Once they pull up, before Arya gets out, Sandor grabs her hand. She looks at him in surprise.

"There's something Rose didn't tell you about this thing tonight," he says, and he's not able to look at her directly. Arya has a bad feeling about this.

"Well, what the hell is it?" She asks impatiently.

"We're supposed to go as a couple," Sandor says, still avoiding her eyes. "She says that this idiot is more attracted to unavailable women, and that if he sees us together, he'll want you even more. I don't know what the fuck that means, but it's what Rose instructed."

"When did she tell you this? I didn't receive any information about it..." Arya says, grinning just a tiny bit.

"She texted me on the burner, which you left back at the hotel, ya dipshit. Do you think I would make something that fucking stupid up?"

Arya just shakes her head, which clearly annoys him. But she says, "Fine, I guess we're Mr. and Mrs. Clegane tonight. How sweet."

Sandor just grunts in agreement. Arya bites back a laugh while he gets out of the car, and then goes to her side of the car to open the door. This is definitely going to be an interesting night, she realizes.

They enter the castle and are greeted by the host, Mr. Charles Brumm, who gives them a tour of the beautiful and ornate grounds. Arya is not easily impressed but she'd have to admit she was enchanted by the gorgeous castle. Sandor couldn't care less but tries his hardest to seem like he does. 

Sandor wraps his arm around her shoulders as they tour the castle, which Arya kind of enjoys. Once they get to the hall where the dinner is to be served, Charles escorts them to their table, where they survey all the guests. 

"Do you see him yet?" Sandor asks. Arya shakes her head. She's seen enough pictures of Roger to pick him out in a crowded room. 

A bottle of wine is brought to the table, and like a true gentleman, Sandor tastes it like he knows what he's doing, and says to the sommelier, "Perfect, thank you." Once he walks away, Arya laughs. 

"What? I have to fit in," Sandor says, gulping down the first glass of wine and quickly pouring another. 

"Hey, can I have some of that, please?" Arya asks, and he grumpily pours her a glass.

Their table starts to fill up as more people join them in the hall. Next to Arya is an older woman in a black dress; she introduced herself as Janine Dewhurst, and Arya recognizes her name as a senator from Rhode Island. Next to Sandor, much to Arya's enjoyment, is a man with salt and pepper hair who will not shut up about the stock market and Wall Street and other things Sandor has never cared about in his life, but he's still trying to keep up with the conversation. Arya knows he wants to stab everyone at this table, but Sandor's doing a good job keeping up appearances. 

During dinner, Arya looks around and takes stock of all the guests. There are some whom she knows are directly connected to Cersei--her old adviser Marcus Bailey is sitting at a table with other people Arya recognizes as Cersei's acquaintances. She still hasn't seen Roger, however.

She's starting to lose hope when the hall darkens a bit and slow music starts playing. Some of the older couples get up and head to the dance floor, dancing closely and laughing like it was the best night of their lives or something.

"There he is," Sandor says in her ear, and she glances in the direction he is looking. Sure enough, Roger is standing by the dance floor, supposedly looking at which unavailable lady he would like to tear away from her partner first. 

"Would you like to dance, young lady?" Sandor asks her, and all the people at their table grin and encourage Arya to get up and dance with her handsome date. 

"Of course. Please escort me to the dance floor," Arya says, and he makes a face but gets up anyway. He extends his hand to her and she takes it, and they walk together, hand in hand, to the dance floor.

This is where they both realize that dancing together is nearly impossible, since Sandor is so much taller than Arya. She literally only comes up to his belly button. They both kind of snicker at the ridiculousness of this plan, but try their hardest to make it work.

After a bit of adjusting, it's actually quite nice. Sandor wraps his big arms around her and she snuggles up to his waist. They aren't exactly dancing, just moving in sync, but Arya likes it. She feels safe and protected in his arms, which is lame, because she decided a long time ago that only she can make herself safe, but just for this night... just with this man... she's going to let go a little.

"You do look nice tonight," Sandor says to her, putting one giant hand on her shoulder, tucking away a tiny piece of wig hair that had come loose. "Every man in this room is jealous of me on this dance floor.”

"You’re full of shit," Arya says, and she knows she's blushing. This is weird. This is not their relationship. And yet still it's happening anyway. 

"Have you even seen how many fucking perv cunts have been looking at you? Some of these motherfuckers need a good stabbing or two.”

Arya doesn't know what to say, so she says nothing. She just closes her eyes and enjoys the moment they're having, because if she knows nothing else, she knows it isn't going to last very long. 

Sure enough, Roger, like clockwork, shows up and puts his hand on Sandor's back, which immediately makes him spin around to see who he has to stab next. Roger backs up and says, "Hey, big guy, relax! I just wanted to dance with your lady for a moment. Can I cut in?"

From the way Sandor is looking at Roger, Arya knows that's the last thing he wants to do. Roger does look like a slimy sea creature, with oily black hair, dull grey eyes, and pink chubby cheeks, indicating that he's been drinking quite a lot--which his breath reveals as well.

"I suppose so," Sandor says, nodding. Sandor releases Arya and Roger takes her hand. She glances back at Sandor as Roger whisks her away, and the savage look in his eyes is something Arya will always remember.

"So what's a little girl doing with a big man like that?" Roger asks, and Arya instantly hates him. But she knows she needs this guy, so she puts on a fake smile and tries to look like she's having a good time.

"Oh, he's harmless," Arya says. "He may look intimidating but really he’s just a big teddy bear.” 

"I bet he lets you play with him all night long,” Roger says, and Arya wants to vomit on him. How is he even real? “I'm glad you're here tonight. None of these other ladies want to have a good time."

"I'm always looking for a good time," Arya says, and Roger laughs. 

Arya tries to think of a way to get him alone, but nothing is coming to her yet. And she knows if she's patient for just a few more minutes, the disgusting scumbag is probably going to invite her to his room. 

When the song is over, Roger reluctantly lets go of Arya and says, "I see some business associates I need to speak to, but I'll be back. Save the next dance for me?"

"Of course," Arya says, trying to sound "flirty" or "seductive" or another word that has never described her. 

Roger grins at her and goes off to find his "associates." One second later, Sandor is by her side again.

"Did you get anything yet?" He asks impatiently.

"No, not yet. I'm sure I will soon, though. He's hooked."

"Lady in Red" starts to play, and Sandor opens his arms for another dance. Arya places herself in his arms, and this time he holds her tighter. 

_I've never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight_  
I've never seen you shine so bright  
I've never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance  
They're looking for a little romance, given half a chance  
And I have never seen that dress you're wearing  
Or the highlights in your hair that catch your eyes  
I have been blind 

Sandor moves his arm from her hip to her back, and rubs it gently. She thinks she should probably stop him from doing that for a number of reasons, but the problem is she just doesn't want to. Especially since the alternative is dancing with Roger again.

"You’re _my_ lady in red," Sandor murmurs, and at first Arya thinks she must have heard him wrong because who is he and why would he ever say something like that? He must be drunk--he did drink a lot of wine. But she looks up at him and sees in his eyes that he said exactly what she thought he said, and he meant it. 

Arya just wraps her arms around him tighter while they dance for the whole song. She’s not going to think about how weird it is, or how right it feels. She’s going to live in the moment.

_The lady in red is dancing with me, cheek to cheek_  
There's nobody here, it's just you and me  
It's where I want to be  
But I hardly know this beauty by my side  
I'll never forget the way you look tonight 

When the song ends, they hold on to each other for a few more seconds, before Arya steps back a little, just to see Sandor’s face. He looks down at her and she thinks he’s going to say something, but--of course--Roger is back to interrupt.

“My lady, we didn’t get to finish our dance yet. Do you mind, big guy?”

Sandor definitely minds, but he clears his throat and says, “If she is okay with it, so am I.”

Arya nods. “Let’s dance,” she says, and Roger whisks her away. She looks back at Sandor, who looks so out of place on the dance floor by himself. Thankfully, a leggy blonde woman sidles up to him and they start dancing closely. Arya tries to ignore her ridiculous and all-encompassing pangs of jealousy. 

“You seem quite fond of that ‘big guy’ over there,” Roger says. “What would it take for you to accompany me back to my hotel room?”

Well, this is going to be easier than she thought. She underestimated what a nasty piece of shitballs he is. 

“Another glass of wine?” Arya says, and he grins disgustingly. 

“Ah, a girl after my own heart. I’ll get you one after the song ends, my dear.” They continue to dance, and Roger has his hands literally all over her. She does not enjoy a single second of being close to this man, and instead imagines how satisfying it will be to kill him before the end of the night. 

When the song ends, Roger rushes off to get more wine. She’s only standing there for a few seconds before Sandor rushes over and whisks her away back to the dance floor.

“What in the hell are you doing? He’s getting me more wine, and invited me to his hotel room. I’m so close! Please do not fuck this up for me.”

“I’m not. We’re just dancing. We’re allowed to do that, right?” Arya doesn’t know what to do with this version of Sandor. His possessiveness is uncharacteristic, but it's also kind of interesting. She'd find it even more interesting if she weren't in the middle of something so fucking important.

“If he sees us dancing again, he might give up trying to get me back to his room. Can you please go back to that blonde you were feeling up and leave me alone for five minutes?”

“Her name is Donna and she’s fluent in seven languages.”

“Well, good for her. I’m sure she’s very smart. Why don’t you go learn more about her?”

Sandor doesn’t speak, and continues to hold her in his arms. Although part of Arya wants to stay there and never move again, she pushes him and releases herself from his grip. “Leave me alone, damnit!” she says loudly, and hope he gets the point that this is a show for Roger and not anything else. He looks conflicted, like he wants to take her back and dance her away, but he gets the picture and backs away.

Roger comes back seconds later with her wine. “Well, that looked uncomfortable…”

“He’s just too possessive of me sometimes. I like to do my own thing.”

“Ah, a free spirit,” Roger says. “Well, if you really want to show him, you can come to my room with me now. We can have another drink in private.”

“Sounds good to me,” Arya replies, and follows Roger to the elevator, glass of wine in her hand. He looks her up and down and bites his lip repulsively all the way to the 35th floor. He leads her into his room, which is more like a penthouse suite than a single room, and says, “Allow me a few minutes to freshen up.”

Arya is revolted by the thought. “Okay… I’ll be here.”

Roger takes his time in the bathroom and Arya does not want to think about what he’s doing in there. She drinks more wine and thinks about how she’s going to get the information out of him. There’s so many weird and wonderful ways she can think of; she’s not sure which one would be the most effective, or the most enjoyable.

Roger comes back out of the bathroom in a robe. Arya assumes there’s nothing underneath it and she vomits a little in her mouth. But she smiles and tries her best to look like this is something she wants to do.

“Lay down,” Arya says, not even interested in small talk or whatever else Roger has in mind. Fortunately, Roger is fine with her instruction, and rushes to the bed to lie down. Arya can’t believe how stupid this man is. He is one of her top people and he doesn’t know about Arya, can’t pick her out of a line-up from a hundred other women who look like her? Or maybe she’s the gullible one and he’s about to stab her as soon as she gets on the bed with him. Doubtful, though. Arya doesn’t think he's smart enough to pull it off. She's starting to wonder if Cersei has a bunch of idiots on her roster for a reason, or she just doesn't know what the hell she's doing.

Sure enough, when she approaches Roger, he gives her a huge, disgusting smile, and welcomes her on the bed. It’s decision time--she can either be shy and sit on the bed and wait for him to make the next move, or she can take control. Obviously she chooses that option, and jumps on the bed, right on top of him. She can feel his cock grow under that robe, and she prays to the gods that the robe doesn’t come off for at least the next three minutes.

“Ah, a girl who takes charge. I like that,” Roger says. “What’s your next move?”

Arya straddles him and bends down to kiss him. Just as she hopes he would, Roger closes his eyes before their lips touch. She takes this opportunity to reach into her stocking and retrieve Needle, quickly unsheaths it, and plunges it into Roger’s arm.

“What the FUCK?!” Roger screams. He looks at his arm, which is now of course bleeding profusely. “WHAT THE FUCK!”

Arya holds her hand over his mouth. “Tell me where Cersei Lannister is and I won’t stab you in the chest, too.”

Roger is moaning, and groaning, and making other unidentifiable sounds that are making Arya sick. 

“Where is Cersei, Roger? I’m not going to ask you again.”

“You are a crazy bitch! Even crazier than Cersei!”

For that, she plunges the knife deeper into his arm. She continues to hold her hand over his mouth so the other hotel guests aren’t alerted to what’s happening here.

“She’s in New York City! Nelson Madison is having a dinner party in her honor on Saturday night! Get off me, you stupid whore!”

“Why is he having a dinner party in her honor?” Arya asks, knowing this is pressing her luck but not caring.

“She’s going to blow up a subway station in New York next week,” Roger says through his groaning. “A lot of subway stations, actually. I hope you’re in one of them--”

Before Roger can finish his sentence, the door to the hotel room comes slamming down, and Sandor rushes in with a purpose. Arya gets off the bed because she knows there’s no stopping this from happening, although it really pisses her off that she doesn’t get to do it first.

“You’re taking too long,” Sandor grunts, and pushes his big fucking dagger into Roger’s chest. They both watch as he takes his last breaths.

“I wanted to fucking do it,” Arya says, looking up at Sandor, anger in her eyes. 

“Too fucking bad,” Sandor says, and Arya remembers what it’s like to hate him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this because I heard someone *talk* about the song Lady in Red, I didn't even hear it on the radio or what not, and this idea formed in my head. So this entire story was basically written for this one particular scene. Good times.


	5. Chapter 5

**February 19th, 2011 - captivearya.livejournal.com - I can’t believe i’m still on the road with TH. I hate him and i keep planning my escape, but either I chicken out (ha ha chicken, get it? he fucking loves chicken so much) or he finds me just in time. I guess i don’t really hate him but i just want to be on my own. No idea where Sansa is rn. I miss Jon so much.**

**TH has let me kill a few more people and I did it a few times without telling him first, which pissed him off but i don’t care. I’m getting better at it and i think that freaks him out. Right now i’ve killed 12 people. But there’s still so many more on my list and idk if i’ll ever get to all of them...**

**We were so close to aunt lisa’s house in amsterdam when we got the news--lisa had been murdered just a week ago, probably by cersei’s crew. I laughed so hard. Not because I thought it was funny she was murdered but because TH looked so disappinted. WTF are we going to do now, or go now?**

*****

They don't speak on the way back to the hotel. Arya has no idea what's going on inside that head of Sandor's. His disposition now is completely different than it was earlier in the evening. He could barely take his eyes off of her before and now he refuses to look at her.

In the elevator up to their floor, Sandor looks at the ground instead of her. This is starting to piss Arya off. A lot. So when the elevator opens and they step off, Arya grabs his arm before he goes storming off to his own room.

"What the fuck--"

"Come with me to my room. Now!" She says, hoping that he can tell from her voice that she's not going to accept no for an answer. Sandor groans but follows her.

As soon as she closes the door, the first thing she does it take her wig off and throw it on the floor, while Sandor watches in fascination. And then she starts yelling. Because what the fuck? 

"Okay, look, obviously we were feeling some things during the dancing," Arya says, not wanting to beat around the bush. "There was a moment and it happened. What I don't get is why you won't even look at me now!"

Sandor still doesn't look at her, which is infuriating. "Who said anything about a 'moment'? We were supposed to be a couple, so that's what I was doing. What were _you_ doing?"

Arya wishes she was taller so she could look directly in his eyes right now. "Don't give me that 'act like a couple' bullshit. Were you acting like a couple when you had a King Kong-sized erection as you held me close and looked at me like it was your last moment on earth? Or how about when you couldn't stand Roger putting his hands on me for one single second and almost jeopardized the whole operation? When exactly were you 'acting'? Please, I want to know."

To his credit, Sandor doesn't try to deny her accusations this time, which Arya appreciates. But she's still pissed.

"How would you even know how to act like a 'couple' anyway? Like you've ever been in one." 

Sandor scoffs. "And you have? You've fucked a few times, I'm sure, but have you ever had a real relationship with someone?"

"Like I've ever had time for that," Arya shoots back.

"You've had plenty of time, just like I have. You're exactly like me and don't try to say you're not. When it comes down to it, you want to be alone. All you want is peace and quiet, and if that's not possible, you want to do what we're doing now--be on the hunt. Solve a mystery, find the pieces of the puzzle, kill your enemies, watch as they die. You don't want a two-story house in the suburbs with a golden retriever and four kids and a husband who does everything you say. That's why you denied that blacksmith kid who wanted to settle down with you. And that's why you're here with me now."

Well... she can't exactly deny that. But at the same time...

"And whose fault is that, exactly?" Arya can't stop this train from coming. "Maybe it's the person who kidnapped me when I was an impressionable teenager and then taught me almost everything I knew? The person who showed me where the heart is? Maybe it's that person's fault."

"Oh, yes, it's my fucking fault that you're a cold little bitch, is it? That's what we're going with now? I only showed you what was deep inside yourself. I never _made you_ kill anyone. I only let you do it the first time because you begged me and I didn't think you would really do it. You have it in you, girl. It was always there, just waiting to come out. I just gave you permission to act on it." 

They both stare at each other, not sure what to say or do or accuse the other of next. 

Sandor is the one who looks away first. He lowers his voice. "I've had a lot of time to think about it and... I am sorry for everything that happened. I am sorry for taking you away from your family. You were young and naive and in the moment, I thought that if I didn't protect you, no one else could. I'm sorry if this isn't the life you wanted."

Arya is stunned. He has never apologized to her once in the entire time they've known each other. She didn't see it coming, and yet she's touched that he took the time to say it. Even if he is still "acting."

"I know why you did it. I've always known. And yes, it was shitty and I've had a rough go of it since my father died. I hated you for a long time. But you're right. It was always inside of me. I'm grateful that you let me explore that side of myself because no one else did. Everyone wanted me to be a proper lady like Sansa and that was never going to happen. So... don't be *too* sorry. Maybe just kind of sorry."

They regard each other now. Sandor sighs and sits on the bed. She wants him to be more open with his feelings; she wants him to tell her what's on his mind, but that's just ridiculous. Of course he's not going to. But... actions speak louder than words, right?

Arya walks closer to him so now they're eye to eye. Sandor hesitates for a minute, but ultimately does reach for her. Now she's in his arms. She wraps herself around him, and she's never felt safer in her life. He runs a hand through her hair and says, "I like this better. But you are hot as a redhead. You looked like fire."

"And I know how you feel about fire..." she says softly. He looks into her eyes, and puts his thumb on her lips for a second. She gazes back at him, hoping that he knows what she wants, hoping that he wants it as badly as she does. When their lips do finally meet, it's better than Arya imagined it could be. It starts out slow; his mouth exploring hers gently, like he's testing the waters. But then as they both surrender to it, the air around them feels like steam during a hot shower. It feels like every one of her nerves are on fire as they kiss, and he is holding her so close that she can feel how fast his heart is beating. When at first Sandor was gentle, now it feels as though he _has_ to have her and not a single force in this world can stop him. Arya has never been kissed like this before and she doubts Sandor has, either. When they pull away, it's like something in Arya has changed forever. It's that good of a kiss.

Sandor sighs, but doesn't let go of her.

“Christ, girl, I don’t know what you want from me… sometimes I don’t know if you need a father or if you need a lover. I used to only want to protect you, to teach you. And now I want the same, but this…” He waves his hands around to indicate what they’ve gotten themselves into. “This is making things complicated.”

"I don't need you to protect me anymore, and you can't teach me anything I don't already know. I know who you are; I know what you’re about. I don’t expect you to hold my hand while we’re in line at the airport or buy me tampons at Walgreens every month. It is what it is. It doesn’t have to be more than that.”

Sandor nods, but doesn’t take his eyes off of her. He pulls her closer again and kisses her with an intensity that turns her on way too much. If her 15-year-old self could see her now, she would be so confused and maybe a little disappointed, although probably not completely surprised. Although she never wanted to think of him in that way, she was a hormonal teenage girl and her daydreams got a little... interesting from time to time, but she'd always get over it and shake it off. Thankfully Arya isn’t 15 years old anymore. She knows what she wants. And by the taste of it, Sandor knows, too. 

Arya wants so much more than kissing--she thinks about the weight of his body against hers, and how it would feel to have him on top of her, touching her, doing things she’s hardly ever let herself think about. But they have so much left to do, and they should probably just pace themselves.

Sandor pulls away from the intensity of the kiss and says, “Okay, well, I have to leave right now or some mistakes are going to be made.”

“Or the opposite of one,” Arya can’t help but say. 

“You are crazy,” Sandor says, but she can tell he is at least a little curious about what happens next. Plus she’s sure that he has a huge boner, which _does_ indeed make her a tad bit crazy. “Now get out of my way, I need to go to the shitter.”

While Sandor takes a shit, Arya quickly looks through his burner phone. She finds his texts with Rose, but she doesn't see where Rose said to act as a couple at the dinner. Sandor definitely made that up, which amuses and pleases her. Arya puts it back when she hears the toilet flush, and smiles to herself. 

"What the fuck are you smiling about?" He asks as he comes out of the bathroom, adjusting his belt.

"Nothing at all," Arya replies, trying to keep the little-girl giddiness out of her voice.

"I doubt that," he says. "Good night, girl.”

“Good night. I guess we go to New York tomorrow.” Sandor nods and closes the door. Arya wonders what the hell they’re going to do now.

*****

At the airport, Arya and Sandor make a plan for what happens in New York. The party at Nelson Madison’s home is on Saturday and they will get to New York on Friday. They have one day to prepare; to make sure they don’t fuck this up. Arya can't help but notice that none of the passengers give her and Sandor a second look anymore, which is quite a change from before, when she was a short, young girl traveling with an older, scarred, very tall intense looking man who obviously isn’t her father. It reminds her of how much they’d need to disguise themselves in the early days after Edward’s assassination.

She constantly wanted to tell anyone who would listen that she was being held captive and to please save her. She never did it, because although she was basically a prisoner, she always knew Sandor was the safest person she could be with, whether she liked it or not. In those days, she was running from Cersei and her army of yes-men who would do anything to kill her, and Sandor went to great lengths to not let that happen. He killed so many people in those years, while she watched, appalled and fascinated and intrigued. It was a confusing time, to say the least. Now they are chasing Cersei instead of the other way around, which Arya feels is sort of closure for their previous trip. Arya can’t wait to see the blood flow out of Cersei’s body and the light go out of her eyes.

The flight from Brussels to New York City takes eight hours. Arya has some podcasts to listen to and a good book to read, so she’s all set. For some reason, Sandor doesn’t fall asleep the second the plane takes off, which is unusual for him. Instead he keeps tapping his big legs, eating peanuts, and taking the in-flight magazine out of the seat pocket and putting it back in without reading it. Needless to say, he’s driving Arya insane.

“What’s up? Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Sandor shrugs and looks annoyed by the question. “I don’t fucking know. I guess I’m tired of this travel shit.”

“Yeah, me, too. It would be nice to stay in one place for a while.”

“What are you talking about? You have one place, in Texas. With your condo and safe little job and your sister’s house. Wait--are her kids dwarfs, too?”

Arya scoffs. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it just as well as I do. And no… they are not dwarfs.”

“Well, why do you live there, then?”

Now it’s Arya’s turn to shrug and look bored. “I was trying something different.”

Sandor regards her closely. She hopes she’s not blushing--that would be embarrassing.

“You’re lying to yourself if you think that kind of life is going to make you happy.”

“What do you know what makes me happy?”

Sandor chuckles. “You can’t hide that shit from me, girl. I showed you how to kill a man, and you took that lesson and ran with it. I was there when you killed your  
first man. And second, and third, and twentieth. And who knows how many others there’s been since then. That’s not something you can just walk away from and stop doing. I’ve seen that look in your eye. I’ve never known someone who got off on it as much as I do. Well, except my brother, of course.”

As much as she wants to, Arya can’t deny any of this. So she doesn’t say anything. There’s no point; he has her number and he knows it.

“I see you can’t argue with that. Say you _could_ just stop and move somewhere else. Where would you go? What would you do?”

Arya’s a little taken aback by Sandor’s interest in her future. He’s never really cared about what she wants before… but she supposes things have changed. 

“I’d go back to Belgium,” Arya replies. She can't stop thinking about it. “I like the people, the weather, the scenery. I can see myself there. I’d start a business of some kind. Maybe I’d take on some, ahem, freelance work every now and then so I wouldn’t have to go cold turkey.” As of this moment on the plane to New York, this sounds like a perfect life to Arya. 

She’s probably just romanticizing an impossible dream, but… maybe she can make it happen. Someday.

“I didn’t hate Belgium either,” Sandor says. “I can see you there. Running a flower shop or some shit.”

Arya looks at him, and he seems sincere. He reaches for her hand, which startles her more than a little. Who is this guy? And why does she like it so much? She can’t look at him as they hold hands like love-struck teenagers. Just a moment later, Sandor closes his eyes and quickly falls asleep.

Arya puts her headphones on and listens to her podcast, all with one hand, while she can't help but smile. This is all probably going to end badly, but for now she's willing to deal with the consequences.


	6. Chapter 6

**December 12th, 2011 - captivearya.livejournal.com - well, it happened. I finally am on my own… things got ugly last night. TH was drunk and going on and on about how i’ve ruined his life and how he wish he never met me and he said some shit about sansa that i won’t ever forget. And then something fucking crazy happened - we went into a convenience store to buy some twizzlers and more beer for him and we interrupted a robbery. I was the 1st one in the shop and saw the guy robbing the cashier, I was going to charge him with Needle but TH got in front of me real fast and made sure to protect me from the robber. But he was still drunk and stupid and the robber stabbed him first. He was still able to get in the car but i had to drive. TH wouldn’t fucking shut up and I swear to the gods, I had enough of his shit. So I opened the door when he was on the verge of going to sleep and I pushed him out on the side of the road. I know thats kind of fucked up but our relationship has come to an end. I’m free.**

**TH never found out about me meeting the faceless guy and him inviting me to prague. I’m headed there now--the guy gave me a plane ticket for when I was able to escape TH. I have like 5 dollars so hopefully i can make it to the house of black and white in prague without needing a lot of money…**

**It’s weird, like, I hate TH obviously but i guess i miss him a little. He really tried to protect me until he got killed for it, i guess. He taught me alot. I hope he’s dead tho. Fuck him.**

*****

It’s raining in New York City, and Arya is running in Central Park. As usual, there’s so much on her mind, she doesn’t even know what to think about first. She tries to focus on the plan for tomorrow evening--Cersei will most assuredly be at Nelson Madison’s apartment for the dinner that was planned in her honor. Gregor is probably going to be there, too. This could be it. This could be the night that both Sandor and Arya have been waiting for, the night they could put their demons to rest--quite literally. Arya almost dreads having to find a new purpose in life. Something else that could make her happy--or at least content.

This makes her think of Sandor, and she smiles for half a second before remembering it’s Sandor she’s thinking about. This is happening a lot lately. Maybe this is a temporary thing, she thinks. Brought on by the adrenaline rush that is planning to kill their enemies. That’s probably all it is, right? Because if it was more than that, it would be incredibly inconvenient. How would she even define their relationship? They wouldn’t spend their Friday nights going bowling or watching a movie at the drive-in and eating popcorn. Then again, Arya’s never had a relationship like that, anyway. All Arya knows is that she can't stop thinking about that fucking kiss. Up until that point, Arya thought kissing was pleasant and all, but it was mostly just the appetizer before the main course. Now she knows the whole point of kissing. And... if the kiss was that good, what would the rest of it be like? She can’t think about that now. There’s so many other things to focus on. But that kiss…

The rain is coming down faster now, and Arya is soaked. She runs towards the Pierre, the hotel Rose put she and Sandor up in, finding the rain invigorating instead of annoying. It cools down the city, giving it a certain gloomy quality that is reassuring to her. 

At the hotel, she gets a few sideways-looks from the people in the lobby. She guesses she probably looks like a hot mess but can’t bother caring about that even a little bit. When she gets up to her floor, she almost runs directly into Sandor coming out of his room. He looked like he was on a mission. But when he sees it is her he almost ran over, he backs up. And maybe she’s imagining it, but he gives her a not very subtle once-over. 

“Where are you heading?” Arya asks, trying to ignore how his eyes are everywhere but where they should be.

“I was going to get some food, but…”

“But what?” Arya teases.

“From the looks of you, I guess room service is a better option,” Sandor says. “I don’t feel like getting drenched for a hamburger right now.”

“Want to come in my room to order some food? I’m hungry, too.” Arya is curious just how badly he wants to follow her right now.

“I suppose,” Sandor says. He’s right behind her as she opens the door to the room.

She realizes she probably should have changed first before inviting him in, because now she’s standing there in a wet t-shirt and clingy running shorts. However, judging from the look in Sandor’s eyes, he doesn’t seem to mind this very much.

“Why are you always running, anyway? You’re like a greyhound. You need to totally exhaust yourself every day for a certain amount of time.”

“It’s something I started doing when I came back to Texas. It gives me something to do other than fixating on what I could be doing.”

“Ah. I know the feeling. Alcohol can have the same effect, you know.”

Arya nods. “Yeah. But it does nothing for me. Running makes me feel like I can get through another day, like I have the energy to take on anything. It may be bullshit but… it works for me.”

Sandor goes into the bathroom and comes out with a towel. “Sit down, I’ll dry your hair.”

Arya tries not to look as shocked as she is by this statement. It seems so out of character for Sandor to offer such things, but this is becoming a regular thing now, Arya supposes. So she nods gratefully and sits down on the queen-sized bed. He sits behind her--she grins slightly as the bed practically breaks as he plops down on it with his large frame. 

Very carefully, Sandor dries her hair with the towel, and she hasn’t felt this cared for since her mother was alive. 

When her hair is at least somewhat dry, she turns around to look at him. He is looking back, and there’s a weird tension in the air that she can’t identify, like maybe he’s ready to give in to the atmosphere they’ve created instead of denying it exists.

To prove this point, he leans in and kisses her. _Finally._ Rain is beating against the window and it’s so loud Arya can barely hear herself think, but she doesn’t need or want to think right now, anyway.

His kiss is gentle at first, but as Arya returns it hungrily, it gets slightly more desperate, like he’s trying to consume her. 

“Let’s get you out of those wet clothes,” he murmurs, and Arya nods eagerly. This is where the train has been headed, and Arya is ready to board. He lifts her shirt off, and then her sports bra. They tumble on the bed, and she grabs at his shirt until he takes it off, as well. Arya saw him topless plenty of times on the road, but she never stopped to admire his broad, hairy chest. 

While they continue to kiss, their hands explore what they never dared to before. Arya moans when he touches and kisses her breasts, he is not all that gentle, which turns her on even more, gods forbid.

Sandor never even talked about women during their time together back in the day, much less try to sleep with any, so she always assumed he hasn't been with many in his life. It’s not like Arya can claim to have much experience either; there was Gendry, of course, and a few other men before she came back to Texas, but nothing to write home about. So what Sandor’s doing to her now… with his lips on her breast, with his big, capable hands trailing down her stomach, with his fingers lighting her flesh on fire… it’s like nothing she’s experienced before. She didn’t know it could be like this. 

His weight on top of her, once he figures out how not to crush her, is intoxicating. And when he slips inside of her, she gasps a little, because he’s so big, and he wants her so much. The only sound is the rain, her gasps, and his moans. When she’s on the brink, Arya says, “my turn,” and he grins, and moves aside. Arya gets on top of him, kisses his lips, his face, his scars. Then she kisses his neck and his chest, all while they are moving together in rhythm. This is not something Arya thought would ever happen, certainly not as a teenager and maybe not even as of 25 minutes ago. But as they move together, as they touch and connect as they never have before, Arya is sure that this is the only place she wants to be, right here and right now in his arms, with Sandor inside of her, the sound of rain pouring from the sky.

Afterwards, she lays with him, his arms wrapped around her, his nose buried in her hair. Neither of them say anything--there’s nothing to talk about. They fall asleep together like this, for once not thinking about what happens next. They will have plenty of time for that later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one, so we can get to the point of the sexy times before we move on.


	7. Chapter 7

*****

**  
_SEPTEMBER 2011_  
**

**I need you to promise me something.**

_What is it?_

**If it comes to a point where it’s me against Gregor, I don’t want you to fucking help me.**

_Why not?_

**You think you’ve wanted revenge a long time? I’ve been after it all my life; it’s all I care about. It’s my fight.**

_But I’d want to help--_

**I know, girl. I know that’s what you think you’d be doing, but he’s too big and too crazy, and he is vicious. He is a bad man, and he will hurt you. That tiny shit of a dagger isn’t going to help you against him.**

_What if he’s about to kill you? I can’t let him--_

**Look at me...LOOK AT ME! Pay attention. I do not want your help. If he’s going to kill me, I’m ready. Don’t do anything stupid to save me.**

_Fine… I get it._

**Promise me.**

_I promise._

**__** __

_**2019** _

When the rain finally tapers off at 2:00 in the morning, the two of them are too keyed up to go to sleep. Arya suggests taking a walk, and although that’s the last thing Sandor wants to do, he agrees to it. They both have their hoodies on--to be seen together in New York would trigger all kinds of alarm bells. “Former Secret Service Agent and President’s Daughter Seen On New York Street” is what Arya thinks the headline will be, although it’s too long and she feels as though people have generally stopped caring about her after all this time. But they don’t want to take any risks.

“I don’t know why I keep letting you talk me into things,” Sandor says as they leave the hotel. “Especially with the importance of tomorrow.”

“Excuse me, but I don’t think I had to ‘talk you into’ what we just did,” Arya says, and reaches out to squeeze his hand. He squeezes her back. It's way too cute for words, which is not something that usually describes the two of them together.

“You know what I mean. We can’t afford to let this get in the way of what we came here to do,” he says.

“I don’t get why you’re always trying to categorize it. We can do both; I keep telling you that.”

Sandor shakes his head, like he doesn’t think that’s possible. But it seems like he has something else on his mind.

“If Gregor is with her tomorrow… remember your promise to me?”

Arya thinks back to the conversation they had so many years ago. “I remember, but that was a long time ago. I can take him now--”

“No. Even if you could, I don’t want you to. I will never forgive you, girl, do you understand? Gregor is mine. And you underestimate his strength. I’ve seen you in action and I respect your skills, but Gregor is no match for you. Just tell me you get it.”

“I get it,” Arya says. She doesn’t really get it but it’s so important to Sandor. “I promise. Again.”

“Thank you.”

Meanwhile, as they walk down East 61st Street, the smell of rain drifting up from the wet pavement, the clouds parting in the sky to reveal a full moon… Arya feels something she hasn’t experienced in a while--real happiness. It’s been so long that she almost has no idea how to identify it. But walking with Sandor into an uncertain future, after spending the past month doing what she does best, on the eve of her possibly finally killing her greatest enemy, Arya is _happy._ She realizes that things may not work out the way they're planning; that Cersei and Gregor might not even be in New York, or that she and Sandor could possibly not even make it through the impending battle, but... she's not going to think about that tonight.

They walk by a Starbucks and Arya says, “I’m going to get some tea. Come with me?”

“I’d rather walk on burning hot coals than be seen in a Starbucks. I’ll wait out here,” Sandor says. Arya chuckles and goes to get her tea. It’s a short line at 2 AM and Arya is served quickly. “Just the Way You Are” by Billy Joel is playing on the speakers. Arya smiles for a brief second because it was one of her father’s favorite songs. Edward loved Billy Joel. In fact, the whole family went to see him at Madison Square Garden when Arya was three--

As Arya walks towards the door, she sees Sandor outside, frozen in place. Just a few feet away from him is a huge hulking figure that appears to be as tall, maybe even taller than Sandor.

 _Gregor,_ Arya thinks, and she drops her tea and runs outside--from the patio exit. She unsheathes Needle and waits. It looks as though the two brothers are having a heated conversation. Arya knows how this is going to end and feels completely helpless to stop it from happening. She made that goddamn promise. Still, she wants to be back up in case he wants her.

“You dropped your tea,” says a voice from behind her. Arya spins around to tell the voice to fuck off and comes face to face with Cersei fucking Lannister.

Arya grips Needle, but she sees that plunging it directly into Cersei is the wrong move, at least right at this moment. Her heart is beating out of control and she tries to focus so that she doesn’t make a mistake. This is it. _This is happening._

“That’s okay. I’ll get another one,” Arya says, immediately feeling stupid. _That’s_ what she says when seeing this crazy bitch after an entire decade?

“Why don’t you sit down with me? Gregor and Sandor have a lot to catch up on,” Cersei says. Arya doesn’t want to turn around to see what could possibly be happening with the two of them; she can’t take her eyes off Cersei for a second. Fortunately she can hear them--Sandor and Gregor are yelling at each other very loudly and the mix of Scottish accents is getting harder to understand. But as far as Arya can tell, they aren’t trying to kill one another just yet. 

“I’d rather not,” Arya says, and then notices the two huge men lurking behind Cersei, just waiting to do the dirty work for her. Arya figures she can get the upper hand here if she needs to. She just needs to pace herself--she can do that.

“Fair enough. Sit down with me.” Arya realizes this is not a request. She sits down at the metal table with Cersei. Cersei sips her coffee and looks perfectly calm and collected. Out of all the ways Arya imagined this scenario, this never came up. She wanted Sandor by her side, and right now, she can’t even protect him from _his_ worst enemy. 

“Do you think we don’t know where you and your beast of a companion are at all times? You really think you two have been covertly finding all my associates and it wouldn’t get back to me? You are truly a stupid, stupid girl.”

“Of course we knew that,” Arya says, struggling to stay in control. “Why do you think we came to New York?”

“Because you thought I was being honored at Nelson’s house tomorrow night. That’s what Roger told you, right? He was so easily manipulated, that one. Truthfully, I’m thankful you killed him. Saved me from having to do the job myself.”

“How convenient,” Arya says.

“It was. Why do you think I didn’t warn him that you would be in Belgium? ‘Look for a twenty-something woman that resembles a little girl, and her ugly, scarred sidekick.’ It would have been so easy.”

Arya hears Gregor and Sandor’s fight escalating behind she and Cersei on the street. Arya knows Sandor has his dagger on him--he always does--but he might not be fast enough to unsheath it before Gregor makes a move.

A small crowd has gathered to gawk at the two giant men fighting on the street, but due to this being a somewhat normal New York City occurrence, most of the crowd gets bored before too long. Arya is trying to think of how to take Cersei and her goons out before running to help Sandor, but he doesn’t want her help, and she needs to focus on what’s right in front of her.

“Don’t worry, Gregor will be done with Sandor soon. You worried about him?” Cersei smirks at Arya. Arya can’t deal with this. Cersei’s idea of a good time is a conversation, it appears. Arya bets Cersei has never been in a real fight in her whole life. She has to take this bitch out, and soon. 

“Not really. Sandor knows what to do in a fight.”

Cersei laughs. “You don’t know Gregor.” She takes another sip of coffee, which Arya wishes she would choke on violently. “Why do you even want to protect Sandor? He kidnapped you. Took you away from your family. Changed you. Are you two fucking or something?”

Arya is not going to let this bitch faze her. “He’s a friend.”

Cersei laughs. “I know all about ‘friends.’ But enough with the formalities. I know you want to kill me. I know you think I’m the reason for all your pain and suffering. If I could list all the ways I’ve suffered, all the pain I’ve been in… your life has been easy in comparison. By the way, if you do succeed in killing me, nothing ends. It only continues, darling.”

Arya doesn’t ask what the fuck she is talking about, but it doesn’t matter because Cersei keeps talking. “For starters, you’ll probably be executed immediately by one of my men--yes, I have less of them now since you started your murder spree across the world, but there’s always more to be found. When one has money, there’s a never-ending line of people who want to be my friend and my council. And I think you’re forgetting one thing--your sister is married to my brother. I can take them both out at the same time. Once Sansa becomes a senator, she’ll be a target anyway. I believe that makes us sisters-in-law, by the way. Would you really want to kill your sister-in-law?”

“Stop talking,” Arya says before Cersei opens her fucking mouth again. “Just shut the fuck up. I can kill you and your guards and anyone else you send over to me. You killed my father, and my mother and my brother, and you’re still not anything important. Any fucking cunt can have money, but that doesn’t give you what you really want.”

Cersei looks intrigued. “Oh, and what’s that?”

Arya smiles. “Your brother is dead. He’s never coming back. And now you’ve joined up with Gods know who to blow up the country to get your revenge. You’re a fucking psycho.”

Cersei doesn’t deny this. Instead she looks past Arya to Gregor and Sandor. 

“This is my favorite part of Gregor’s plan,” Cersei says with admiration in her voice. “When he told me about it, I could believe how masterful it was.”

Behind her, Arya hears a liquid being poured on to the pavement. It seems like everyone and everything in New York City goes quiet, because Arya can hear what happens next--the sound of a match being struck. 

“Poor Sandor, he really hates fire, doesn’t he? This is probably his worst nightmare--”

With one swift move, Arya pulls out the umbrella from the patio table and hits Cersei in the head with it, causing Cersei to fall over on the ground. The two guards come rushing at Arya and she shoves the umbrella sideways at them, causing them to fall as well. Arya grabs Needle and stabs both of them in the heart. Cersei is unconscious and can wait a minute while Arya figures out how to kill Gregor without breaking her promise to Sandor, which seems rather impossible.

Arya turns around to see what she feared was happening--Gregor lit a huge fire in front of him on the sidewalk, and Sandor is staring at it, unable to move, like he is in a trance and the fire is the only thing he can see. Arya wants to shove her dagger into Gregor so badly, just _end_ this fucking thing, but it’s not an option. 

The fire is in the way of her running to Sandor, and she can see how this is going to play out. In seconds, Gregor is going to stab Sandor while he’s mesmerized by the fire. She has to do something.

“Sandor! Look at me, you dumb fuck! Don’t be a fucking idiot!” She’s screaming, and absolutely nobody is paying attention. Gregor doesn’t even turn around to look at her. Sandor is still staring into the flames with a blank expression on his face.

Gregor is walking out of the fire over to his brother now, Arya sees. Before she can question what the hell she’s doing, Arya picks up another umbrella from the table (they’re surprisingly light) and throws it at Sandor. It hits him in the head, and he nearly falls down. But it does knock him out of the daze he was in, and he manages to block Gregor’s hand right before he stabs him. Arya watches in horror as the two of them fight it out, stabbing each other multiple times, but not quite connecting with any vital organs. Arya could end this right now; Gregor is so focused on Sandor that she could stick her knife in his back with no problem. 

Arya cries out when Gregor sticks his blade directly into Sandor’s hand, which makes Sandor let out a high-pitched scream. Sandor looks across the fire and makes eye contact with Arya. It causes her a physical ache in her chest to see that the light is slowly draining from his face. He is realizing that he never had the upper hand and she is sure that pisses him off more than anything else about this.

“Sandor!” Arya screams out, knowing that it’s not going to help. Sandor again finds her through the flames, right as Gregor kicks him in the stomach. Sandor falls down to the ground, and Arya’s heart breaks.

Sandor lays on the ground for way too long. Gregor gives him a second to stand up, continue their fight, not be such an easy target, but Sandor doesn’t move. Gregor kicks him in the leg, and then moves to stab him again. Before he makes contact, Sandor grabs the umbrella Arya threw at him and pierces it right through Gregor. Gregor tries to pry it out of him, but it’s in too deep. Arya watches as Gregor falls right into the flames that he personally ignited. And suddenly, Gregor is gone. It all happens so fast, Arya barely has time to process it all.

Before Arya can run to Sandor, she hears quiet footsteps behind her. She lifts up a chair and turns around, throwing it straight at Cersei, who had a knife in her hand, ready to strike. Cersei falls once again, and that’s when Arya takes Needle out. She kneels on the ground and grabs Cersei by the head. 

“You’ll regret this, I swear--”

“I will never regret being the one who gets to kill you,” Arya says, and slits Cersei’s throat. Arya wants to watch as the blood comes pouring out of Cersei’s mouth, but she knows the bitch is dead. She runs to Sandor and kneels again, holding his head in her hands. He’s still alive, but just barely.

Arya hears sirens in the distance and knows someone called 911. The best thing to do would be to run as far away as possible, as quickly as she can, but she’s not going to leave Sandor. No matter what the consequences, that’s not an option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When it comes to deaths, one probably has never imagined "impaled by a Starbucks umbrella" for Gregor Clegane, but here I am, subverting expectations.


	8. Chapter 8

Arya doesn’t remember exactly how she ended up in Sandor’s hospital room after all the chaos that ensued. There was an ambulance, there were police cars, there was _a lot_ of yelling, there was a four hour surgery to save Sandor’s life… and he’s still touch and go, the doctors say. He was in a coma for almost a full 24 hours after the surgery--apparently one of the stab wounds in his stomach was perilously close to his heart. It’s now three days later and he still hasn’t woken up. Arya is still in a daze. The fact that she finally killed Cersei Lannister hasn’t even registered. All she cares about is Sandor waking up.

The nurses have given up trying to get Arya to go home and get some rest--she refuses to leave Sandor’s room, even to get food or coffee or do anything that’s not waiting for him to wake up. 

Rose rushed to New York City as soon as she heard. Arya doesn't hear her come in the room--she's so out of it--but when Rose says her name softly, Arya looks over at her in surprise. 

“Arya… you don’t have to stay by his side. You can go get some rest. I’m sure he appreciates you waiting for him, but…”

“No. I’ll wait here until somebody physically takes me out of here or until he wakes up, or until… he doesn’t wake up. Whatever.”

Rose sighs. She scoots her chair closer to Arya’s and puts her hand on her arm. 

“I didn’t know… when I sent him with you on this journey I didn’t know your feelings for him.”

Arya doesn’t respond to this. A few nights before Sandor came to her house and convinced her to leave with him, she had gone running in the stifling Austin summer heat. Ever since she got back from Prague, Arya had trained herself not to think about Sandor; in her mind he was dead and nothing good could come from it. But that night, she let herself think about him, and how he taught her what it was like to feed on her darkest instincts, how he encouraged her to embrace the feeling she experienced when she killed someone who deserved it. She almost wished that she could have one more conversation with him. A few days later, he materialized in her house as though she summoned him herself, and she’d never been so grateful to be wrong about something. She had no idea they would grow so close, but she doesn’t regret it. Even if Arya loses him now, she is thankful that they had this one last trip together. If not just because it proved to her that a safe life in Texas was never going to fulfill her, but also because she learned what it was like to slowly break down her walls and have real, true feelings for someone. To really understand what it's like to want to be with someone all the time. She is somewhat terrified of what that means for her life, and her future.

“I’m going to go back to the hotel. Please let me know when he wakes up. He’s a good man.” 

_"If_ he wakes up, you mean," Arya says.

"Yes. If he wakes up." Arya always appreciated that about Rose--she usually doesn't sugarcoat things. 

Rose squeezes Arya’s hand and leaves. 

Arya drifts in and out of sleep, having weird dreams about her mom and dad, about eating ice cream with Sansa in the summer, about going across the world with Sandor to kill all their enemies. 

“Girl…”

She having another dream--she and Sandor are back in Paris, drinking a glass of orange juice in front of the Eiffel Tower, laughing about some dumb idiot they just killed together. But again she hears him calling out to her, and they are not in Paris, they are in a hospital room together and he really is calling out for her.

“Arya?” This is when she snaps out of her dream. Sandor has literally never called her by her name in all the time they’ve traveled together. It’s always been “girl” or some other shitty name he’d come up with for her.

“Sandor!” She is awake now. Her feet are asleep and she almost trips as she gets up and walks over to his bedside. Of course he looks rough. His beard is unkempt and his hair needs to be cut; his eyes are bloodshot and he can barely open them. But it’s Sandor, her Sandor, and he’s alive.

“You didn’t leave me for dead again,” he murmurs. 

“No, I didn’t,” Arya says, relief coursing through her veins. “You didn’t piss me off so much this time.”

"Is he dead? Did you kill him?"

"He's dead. But _you_ killed him. I wouldn't break that promise to you."

Sandor exhales and somehow looks relieved, even if he is completely broken down and exhausted. She holds his hand, waiting for any other sign of life, but he falls asleep again. Arya goes back to her chair to wait for the next time he wakes up.

Several hours later, she awakens to someone again calling her name. Hoping Sandor is awake, she snaps to attention to see Sansa sitting by her side. 

"Hi, sleepyhead," Sansa says, and Arya weakly smiles.

"How did you know I was here?"

"I'm still your emergency contact, I guess," Sansa says. "I came as soon as I heard. Nobody has heard from you for months... I'm just so glad to know where you are, and that you're still in one piece. Is Sandor going to be okay?"

"No one knows yet... he woke up for a minute but went right back to sleep."

"I hope he comes back to us. And I'm glad you were with him when it happened." Sansa pauses for a moment. "So... you killed Cersei?"

Arya nods. "Yeah. At a Starbucks." Despite her miserable mood, Arya chuckles a little, which causes Sansa to smile sadly. 

"That must have been quite a sight, I'm sorry I missed it."

"I don't know why I haven't been arrested yet. I keep waiting for the police to show up in this room any second..."

"There's an officer outside the room that's waiting to question you," Sansa says, and Arya exhales. She knew it. This is going to get ugly. "But I spoke to him and they're not going to arrest you, or Sandor. They know it was self defense, first of all. And Cersei is a known terrorist; they searched Nelson Madison's apartment and found so much evidence that he, Cersei, Gregor Clegane, and so many other people are involved in a plot to bomb several subway stations in New York. So they aren't going to charge you with anything."

Arya doesn't react to this news. She is relieved, of course. But this could have ended so badly. 

"I don't know where you've been or what you've been doing since you've been gone, but I have an idea, especially since you're with Sandor. You can't do this forever, Arya. You may get caught, but worse than that, you're definitely going to get hurt someday. Look at him... you don't even know if he's going to wake up."

"I didn't go on this trip for fun... Cersei needed to be stopped, so I stopped her. It's over."

Sansa shakes her head. "It will never be over though, will it? Just because she's dead doesn't mean you're done."

Arya thinks about Brussels. "I don't know. I'm thinking about settling down somewhere for a while."

"So you're definitely not coming back to Texas? I should have known--"

"Sansa, please. I understand where you're coming from, but can we please have this conversation later? Sandor, he's..." Arya doesn't know how to finish that sentence.

Sansa looks at Arya and then back at Sandor. She seems to be piecing together what's going on here. Arya may think Sansa can be annoying at times, overbearing, too protective, too naive... but she knows Arya almost better than anyone.

"Seriously? Sandor Clegane, the Hound? The secret service agent who used to chase us around the White House? Who used to keep me from getting into too much trouble? The one who--"

"For fuck's sake, yes. The one who kidnapped me and took me away for two years-- _to protect me._ Mostly."

Sansa laughs. "I guess I should have seen that coming. You always did like stuff that was bad for you."

“He’s different now. He’s changed. And… I think he feels the same way about me.”

Sansa’s grin disappears. “Arya… please just be smart about this. I know Sandor, he is basically a good person. He will always keep you safe--he feels like it’s his sworn duty to protect the Stark girls or something. But he’s not going to settle down with you… he’s not going to escort you to the mall or hold your hand at the gynecologist’s office. He’s not that type of man.”

“Who says I need that type of man? I don’t need him to be any one thing. I keep telling him that, too. We can be together and still have our own lives. We can define our own relationship.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Do you think he _wants_ to be in a relationship? He’s going to break your heart, Arya. I’m only telling you this because I think it would be a big mistake to pretend otherwise.”

Arya changes the subject to Sansa’s kids because she can’t deal with this conversation any longer. When Sansa leaves to get more coffee, she thinks about what her sister is saying. She doesn’t want to believe Sansa is right, but she very well could be. Sandor has given her no reason to believe that they will be together once he leaves the hospital or beyond that. Arya assumed that they would continue this… whatever it is, but Sansa may be onto something. Now Arya is thinking about all the ways this could possibly go wrong, and she knows she needs to protect herself before she completely destroys her life for someone who may not even want to share it with her. There's also the matter of how losing him again would completely shatter her, especially if she allows herself to get even closer to him. The kind of lifestyle they live... she can never be sure that he's going to make it to the next day. 

She already lost him once. She can't lose him yet again. Except... maybe she has to.

*****

24 hours later, Sandor is completely awake and alert. The doctor texts her while she's eating disgusting scrambled eggs in the cafeteria. The scrambled eggs go straight in the trash and Arya rushes up to his room. It gives Arya joy to see Sandor sitting up in his hospital bed, looking just as grumpy as always but more awake and alert than he's been in a week. He doesn’t exactly _smile_ when she enters, but his face reveals that he is happy enough to see her.

"I brought you some coffee," she says, and he takes it from her gratefully. "So I spoke to your doctor and he says you can leave in a few days. You’ll have to go to rehab for your hand and ankle but otherwise you’re almost as good as new.”

“It doesn’t feel very new,” Sandor mutters. “Everything still hurts.”

“Your body went through a lot… it will hurt for a while.”

Sandor nods but doesn’t respond. She figures the pain pills are working.

“So Sansa is here in New York…”

“Ah, the little bird is here.” The first time she gets an actual response and it’s about her sister. Figures. “Did I miss her?”

“No. She’ll be back soon. Actually, when the doctor releases you, Sansa is going to bring you back to Austin. You can stay with her and Tyrion while you heal.”

Sandor looks her in the eye and she can only hold his gaze for a second before looking away. 

“Ah, I see. So you’re leaving. Not going back to Austin, I take it?”

“No. I’m going to stay here--in New York--for a while.” 

“Yes, makes sense. Why would you want to go back to Texas and live a normal life after killing Cersei? You’re too good for that now.”

Arya knew this wasn’t going to be easy. “That’s not it. Not all of it, anyway. I…”

“If you don’t think I know exactly what you’re doing and why, you don’t know me at all, girl. You’re running away. You have some notion about ‘how I feel’ and it scares the shit out of you. So now you’re leaving.”

“I’m leaving. Yes.”

“I know you’re not going to give me any kind of true reason, but why exactly? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Arya exhales and waits a beat before answering. “You got hurt and I couldn’t stop it from happening. It made me realize that we are not owed anything, by either ourselves or each other. I don’t want to keep putting myself out there and not feel you grasping back. So I’m going to leave before either of us have to make that decision.”

Sandor looks at her as though she is completely out of her mind. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re saying, girl. You’ve been talking about ‘we can be both’ or whatever the fuck for weeks now. What happened to that?”

“It’s not enough,” Arya murmurs. “After killing Cersei, things have changed for me. I want more now. ‘Both’ is not enough.” She leaves out the part where she can't fucking stand the thought of losing him again. 

Sandor doesn’t respond to this. He finally takes his eyes off of her and opens a bottle of pills. He takes out three of them and then swallows without water. Arya doesn’t know what to say or do now. How can she explain to him that her heart is breaking at the thought of not being with him every moment of the day anymore? It’s too much. She wants all of him or none of him, and she can’t say that out loud. It would be too embarrassing for both of them.

“Fine… I’ll stay with Little Bird and the dwarf for a little while. It’s better than staying in this godforsaken city, I suppose. But I won’t be there for long.. And when I leave… I’m not coming back.”

Arya knows he means he’s not coming back to _her._ Which is the opposite of what she wants, but it’s for the best. They both realize that. And if Sandor doesn’t now, he will eventually. She hopes.

“Fair enough,” Arya says. “I hope you’ll be well.”

“I will be as soon as you get the fuck out of here. At least I’m at a hospital and you’re not leaving me for dead again.”

Arya knows she deserves that. Instead of having a snappy comeback, instead of saying anything at all, she looks at Sandor one last time and then walks out of the room. She leaves him behind. She leaves everything behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got way angstier than I had planned, but I love me some good angst, don't you?


	9. Chapter 9

_“To see the world in a grain of sand_  
and heaven in a wildflower,  
hold infinity in the palm of your hand  
and eternity in an hour.”  
William Blake - 

Arya sees this quote on a daily basis--people aren’t as creative or unique as they think they are when they’re writing cards for their loved ones. She still loves it, though. She often thinks of “heaven in a wildflower.” What if life were so simple and easy that she could find all the answers in a wildflower she picked from a field? 

Sighing, Arya arranges the floral arrangement a young man called to order for his betrothed. When she moved to Brussels six months ago, she brainstormed many ideas for what she could do for a living, and she found she was completely stuck on running a flower shop. It’s not something she ever cared about doing, but it seemed like the best option at the time. She hired an older woman with many years experience to teach her the art of flower arranging, which took her a while to learn--it’s not easy, plus it doesn’t come naturally to Arya, so she has to take extra care to pay attention and make it look like she knows what she’s doing, which she almost does. Although it’s not her dream job, it gives her some peace and quiet, and it allows her time to take the occasional “freelance” job that comes her way.

Speaking of which… she gets a text from Rose, which she goes in the back of the shop to read. 

_Got an assignment for you tomorrow night, you’ll like this one - call me._

Arya sends back a smiley face emoji and says she will call Rose later this evening. Good, she’s getting a little bored lately without something to challenge her. 

She checks her business email and sees one from a new customer. They ordered a dozen red roses, and they wanted this written on the card:

_The lady in red is dancing with me_  
Cheek to cheek  
There's nobody here  
It's just you and me  
It's where I want to be  
But I hardly know this beauty by my side  
I'll never forget the way you look tonight 

Well, that’s like a knife to the gut, Arya thinks. She doesn’t think about him that much anymore, because when she does, it always brings on a fresh wave of devastation. It was the right decision at the time--Arya is pretty damn sure about that--but it still hurts. She worries that she’ll never find anyone else who understands her as much as Sandor Clegane does--or _did_. But she is also confident that he could never give her what she needs, because he’s just not that person. He can go on a murder spree with her, he can offer her gum before a plane takes off, he can know every single thing about her, but he’s not going to love her the way she really craves. 

Sansa reported to Arya that Sandor stayed with her and Tyrion for two long, long months before he finally left. Although he basically cost them several thousand dollars in grocery bills every month, and they couldn't keep a chicken in the refrigerator for longer than 24 hours before he would claim it for himself... Sansa said that he was a delight to have in her home and he was surprisingly amazing with the kids. He even took Lady for a walk every day.

Sansa doesn’t know where he ended up. Arya wanted to ask if Sandor ever mentioned her, but she’s not in junior high and that’s a dumb question to ask. Sansa did not volunteer the information, either. Which was (mostly) just fine with Arya. Better to not know.

She looks closer at the card and sees that the customer didn’t put an address to send it to, which is not helpful. She makes a note to herself to call the customer tomorrow.

The door chimes and Arya looks to see that Dorothy, her one employee, has arrived.

“Good evening, boss,” Dorothy says, which always amuses Arya since Dorothy is at least 25 years older than her.

“Good evening, Dorothy. I’m going to take off. Do you have any interesting crosswords to finish tonight?”

“Of course. I can’t arrange flowers without my crosswords.”

“Well, have fun. Call me if you need anything.”

Dorothy nods, and Arya leaves as Dorothy settles in with her pencil and book of crosswords. They’re never very busy at night but the occasional last minute panicked anniversary or birthday calls will come in.

As always, Arya takes her time walking back to her modest one-bedroom apartment. When she first moved to Brussels, it actually took a month or two to really grow on her. She was pretty sure she made a huge mistake, and that all the preparation and paperwork to move to a new country wasn’t going to be worth it. But as she walked down the streets, visited the museums and churches, talked to more and more people… it finally started to bring her the peace and spirituality she had been craving so much in Texas. She can see herself staying here for a long time. 

She waves to store owners on her route who now know her well. She smirks a bit as she watches the tourists look at maps and figure out where to go next. Buddy, a cat who sometimes accompanies Arya on the way home, weaves through her legs as she walks. This is why she enjoys walking home so much; it’s always the same and yet different every time.

Once Arya gets back to her apartment, she reheats some pizza she had the night before, and then changes into her running clothes. Although all she wants to do is plop down on her new couch and read a book or something, she needs to run. The endorphins help her stay grounded in the present and keep her mind from wandering too much into the past. 

When Arya opens the door to start her run, she doesn’t anticipate running directly into Sandor Clegane. He’s holding a dozen roses, and looking more nervous than she’s ever seen. She's also frustrated to note how good he looks, which is really annoying.

The two of them stare at each other for a few seconds, not sure what to say or do. Arya is beyond shocked to see him standing at her door, for many different reasons. She is both relieved and angry that he’s made it all the way to Belgium. Relieved because she’s so goddamn happy to see him, and angry for the same reason.

“Going out for a run again? Nice to see you still have the activity level of a goldendoodle.”

“What are you doing here?” Is the only thing Arya can think of to say.

“Well, I put in an order for a dozen red roses to a nearby flower shop but no one called me to get the address, so I had to deliver them myself. Such bad service. I’m going to complain to the manager.”

Despite trying her hardest not to, Arya smiles just a tiny bit. This seems to please Sandor, and he looks proud of himself. 

“Come in,” Arya says, and he follows her inside. She hands him a beer from the refrigerator, which he takes gratefully. They both sit down at her small kitchen table. As usual, he looks way too tall and out of place for any of her furniture.

Sandor takes a huge gulp of the beer, and Arya doesn’t know what to say or do, or even where to look. 

“So I take it Sansa told you where I live?” They have to start somewhere.

“Yes, Little Bird gave up the information when I told her what I wanted to do.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Well, I’m not going to fucking propose, if that’s why you think I’m here.”

“I never said I wanted that,” Arya says quickly. “In fact I’m the one who left _you,_ so it’s bold of you to presume that I would even entertain the thought.”

 _Of course_ Arya is happy to see him; she’s touched that he came all this way to bring her flowers, but that doesn’t mean she owes him anything. This basically changes nothing, in fact. 

Sandor chuckles and shakes his head. “You are something else, you know that?”

“Look, I appreciate you coming to see me, but--”

Sandor surprises her by putting his hand on hers. He looks her in the eye and says, “Arya, please. Let me talk for a moment. And then you can yell at me, kick me out, do whatever you want with me. But give me a chance to say my piece.”

Arya nods. She doesn’t know why she’s feeling so defensive with him here in her apartment. Maybe because she’s tried so hard to move on and seeing him just makes her realize she hasn’t at all. Not even a little bit.

“Thank you.” Sandor takes another big gulp of beer. “Now...I’ve thought about it a lot, and I know why you left me behind yet again. You don’t think I can give you what you want. I get it. I’m a hard man to be with, and I look out for myself a lot. I’m used to freedom and not having to answer to anyone. But here’s the thing--you’re the same way. Isn’t that what I’ve been saying all this time? We’re exactly alike, you and I.”

“Even if that’s true, what does it matter?” 

“It matters, girl. I know you want more than a travel buddy, more than someone who can hold your hand on a turbulent flight. You want it all. You want a friend, a protector, a lover, and everything in between. Don’t try to deny it.”

Arya wants to deny it, but… she really can’t. Damn.

“And as much as I want to do the same thing you’re attempting here--live by myself, run my own business, eat dinner alone every single night--what I want more is to be everything you want and need. We can do this together. Even if we’re bad at it, we can get better. I’m nearly twice your age and I know nothing about being with another person. But I’m willing to try.”

Arya is truly touched. As much as she wants to have the upper hand here, she’s quickly realizing that it’s not necessary. They are on equal ground. There is no reason to pretend she doesn’t want everything he is offering. Because she really, really wants it.

“I am willing to try, too,” Arya murmurs.

Sandor looks at her like he’s willing to give her the sun and stars if she asks for them. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” Sandor says. “Come here, girl.”

Arya rises from her seat at the table and goes to him. He pulls her down on his lap and they don’t waste any time--the kissing is happening and it’s happening now. God, she missed Sandor. She missed his kiss, his touch, his everything. 

They quickly retreat to her bedroom, where her bed is way too small for him, and it’s everything Arya remembers and more. They lay together for a long time, not speaking, just touching, just hoping and dreaming.

“I don’t know how we’re going to do this,” Arya says. “Are you going to move to Brussels? Are you going--”

Sandor squeezes her hand. “I don’t know. I didn’t think that far. But if you’re going to live here, I guess that’s where I’m going to be. Wherever you are, girl. Now please let me get a little sleep, I’ve had a long fucking day.”

She kisses him gently, and lets him sleep. While she drifts in and out of consciousness, Arya feels like the missing puzzle pieces of her life are finally in place. She and Sandor have so many adventures to go on, so many people to kill together, and so many chances to prove their love for each other. 

Before she falls asleep, Arya looks over on her chest of drawers to make sure the redhead wig is still where she last put it. She and Sandor are definitely going to have fun with that again soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it this far! I truly appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read this ugly little fanfic baby of mine. You are all rock stars in my heart. As always, kudos and feedback are always appreciated!


End file.
